


Cling

by Ash2411



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Childhood Friends, Death, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, High School, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Romance, STYDIA IS CANON, Stydia Big Bang, Summer, a bit smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash2411/pseuds/Ash2411
Summary: The pack is graduating high school and preparing for college. Stiles and Lydia are finally together and the summer is theirs. But, will a new, dark villain allow them to move forward or will they be forever tied to the past? Souls are stolen and lives are at stake as a dark force moves in on Beacon Hills...But, what's new?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have had so much fun creating this fic over the past few months! I'm so happy to have been apart of the Stydia Big Bang :')
> 
> Thank you to my beta, @madgrad2011, for tirelessly reading this beast, even when it wasn't at it's finest. You're the best. 
> 
> Thank you @hoalysmoaks for being so patient with me and choosing to make art out of my writing!
> 
> Thank you so much, @songof-light for creating the most beautiful title card I could have asked for. Seriously, I'm in love. 
> 
> And last, but not least, thank you to all the ladies who organized the big bang and made all this happen!!

“Ass.”

 

“Stiles, I can’t put ‘ass’ in my valedictorian speech.”

 

“Can you put ‘fuck, this town is doomed without us?’” Stiles asks, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Hard pass.” Lydia says with a grin. “Stiles, I want this to be perfect.”

 

Stiles sighs and walks around the small kitchen table to stand behind her. His hands rest on her delicate shoulders and he kisses the top of her head. “Lydia, it’s going to be perfect because  _ you’re _ writing it. Just relax. You don’t have to do it all right now.”

 

“Graduation is less than a week away.” Lydia grumbles. Her hand finds his and she leans her head back into his stomach. 

 

“Yes, but the graduation party for the lacrosse team is happening  _ right now _ .” Stiles says with a hopeful grin.

 

Lydia looks up at him and her resolve softens. Sometimes, when she catches him off guard, Lydia gets a glimpse of how deep his love is for her. She can feel it every single moment, but there are times when she finds him looking at her and his enigmatic, endless amount of love crashes over her in waves. It reminds her of the way he looked at her after he’d rescued her from Eichen House. It’s the expression he wore before the Ghost Riders took him. It’s the one he donned when she got him back. 

 

Lydia reaches for him, gently tugging his face towards hers, her fingertips sliding over his smooth, warm skin. His lips move against hers, the upside down angle opening her up, allowing him to reach for new places, tingles running up and down her spine. Stiles pulls away slightly and she wishes he wouldn’t. Their lips are too close to not be touching. It drives Lydia crazy when he does this. 

 

Stiles grins devilishly, aware of the sexual frustration he’s left Lydia with. “We’re gonna be late!”

 

“I don’t care.” Lydia breathes. 

 

Stiles moves to kiss her again, but the doorbell reverberates through the house, interrupting them. Stiles closes his eyes and waits for it. 

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Scott McCall asks. His voice is low and smooth and more at ease than it’s sounded in a long time. A crooked grin spreads across his face. 

 

“Nope!” Lydia sings, ducking out from beneath Stiles’s arm to stand. Now it’s Stiles’s turn to feel frustrated. Lydia smiles sweetly at him before making her way over to Scott. She stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Where’s Malia?”

 

“Here!” A voice calls. Malia steps into the light, straightening her jacket and finger-combing her hair. “Sorry, had to adjust. I’m never going to get used to riding that dirtbike. Four paws are so much easier.”  Lydia envelopes her in a warm hug before looping her arm through Malia’s. 

 

“You guys wanna ride together? One big happy pack?” Stiles inquires. He says it jokingly, but Lydia can feel the bittersweet emotion beneath his smile. 

 

“Hell yeah.” Scott says with a nod. 

 

****

The party is in full swing when they get there. It’s composed mainly of teenage boys, wearing their lacrosse jerseys or t-shirts, chest bumping and talking loudly. Girls mill about, some young, purely there for the potential of something new, and some older like Lydia and Malia, celebrating the end of something. 

 

“You want a drink?” Stiles says loudly next to her ear. 

 

“Water, please!” Lydia shouts over the music. Stiles kisses her cheek and disappears into the crowd. For a second, her heart skips nervously, but then Scott has his arm around her and the tension lessens. 

 

“You okay?” He asks, giving her shoulders a squeeze. 

 

“Yeah...” Lydia starts. Scott’s warm brown eyes twinkle down at her. “It’s just that...every time he leaves the room I feel like he may not come back.”

 

“I know that feeling.”

 

“Does it ever go away?”

 

“Not completely. But, my mom says it gets easier with time.”

 

Stiles resurfaces, holding two drinks in his hands, awkwardly shoving his way through a tangled array of bodies. Lydia exhales and the tight feeling around her heart melts away. Scott moves forward and thumps him on the back. “Should we go and say hi to Coach?”

 

“To be honest, I’m not sure Coach will even know who we are at this point. Actually, he may not even know who  _ he _ is at this point.”

 

“Stiles.” Scott says, giving him a look. 

 

“Don’t give me that look!” Stiles laughs, rolling his eyes. “Alright, come on.”  

 

This time they both disappear into the crowd. Lydia feels Malia’s presence beside her, steadfast and strong. She takes a sip of water before turning to her. “Shall we?” She holds her hand out. Malia grasps it and they take off into the crowd, searching for a comfortable spot to sit. 

 

They settle on a window seat in the family room, furnished with large cushions and ornate pillows. “Greenburg has a nice house…” Lydia says under her breath. “Hm.”

 

“Okay, so who do we start with?” Malia says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Lydia smiles at the gesture. 

 

“Ummm...him.” She nods towards a young boy, no more than 15 who’s obviously snuck into the party. 

 

“Okay. So...backstory.” Malia mutters. “Obviously not a supernatural creature. Possibly a sloth in his past life. Loves beets, hates speaking in front of people. Most likely to surprise everyone by being a complete badass later in life. Your turn, Lyds.” She looks around the room before pointing out a girl around their age. She looks vaguely familiar, but neither of them know her name. 

 

“Okay. Total powerhouse. Loves fashion and women. Secretly obsessed with comic books and taxidermy. Fully embraces her sexuality. Once threatened a man with her high heel and it worked beautifully.”

 

Malia snorts with laughter. “You’re weird.”

 

“Excuse me, Malia Tate. You called that kid over there a sloth and said he loves beets…”

 

Around kid ten, Lydia begins to feel it. Her eyes drift over everyone until she’s looking at the young man near the fireplace. He’s tall, with dark hair and eyes. His face looks kind. A young girl stands next to him, but it’s clear that she’s his little sister. He pretends that he’s been forced to bring her along, but his actions say otherwise. He keeps a close watch on her as she dances, smiling at her sadly. She’s growing up and he isn’t ready to let her go….Malia is speaking to her, but Lydia’s head is swimming and her vision is growing darker until all she can see is the guy. A deep ache pounds at her skull.

 

“Lydia…” Malia says. “Lydia!” She gives Lydia’s hand a firm squeeze. 

 

It’s over faster than it began. Lydia gasps for air, shocked and confused by the sudden change in atmosphere. It feels like waking up from a dream she can barely remember, but she senses it was significant.

 

“Lydia!” Malia repeats. “Are you okay?”

 

Lydia slowly turns to face Malia’s concerned expression. Something doesn’t feel right, but Malia’s closeness is comforting. “Yeah! I’m fine. Sorry.” She shakes her head slightly. “I’m just tired.” 

 

As Lydia’s finishing her words, Stiles comes through the crowd, Scott tailing him. One look at her face and he knows something’s wrong. His brows furrow as he kneels in front of her. “Lyds? What’s wrong?” 

 

Lydia can feel Scott and Malia’s gazes, but she directs her attention to Stiles’s amber colored eyes. “Nothing! I was just telling Malia how tired I’ve been. That speech is killing me.”

 

Stiles looks at Malia for confirmation, but Lydia places her hand on Malia’s thigh and squeezes gently. “Yeah…”

 

Stiles doesn’t look convinced, but for now he lets it slide. “You wanna go home?” 

 

Lydia stands up and presses her lips to his. “No, I’m fine! I want to dance.”

 

“Well, get your cute little ass out there and dance with me then.” He says, blushing. For a moment, they’re 15 all over again, stumbling over each other’s feet on the dance floor. 

 

Lydia laughs and the four of them join the swaying bodies. She leans her head against his chest and waits for his arms to wrap around her petite frame. Only then does the odd feeling in her stomach begin to disappear. 

 

Stiles rests his chin on the top of her head and she’s home. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Lydia spend some time together that ends with the start of something darker.

“I’m done.” Lydia states. “I’m finished!” 

 

Stiles nearly trips over his feet to get to her. The glow of the computer illuminates his familiar face as he looks at Lydia’s valedictorian speech. Lydia looks up at him as his eyes rove over the words, drinking in his features. He finally looks down at her, warmth saturating his gaze. 

 

“Lydia…” 

 

“Do you like it?” She asks him, her bottom lip between her teeth. 

 

“Yeah.” Stiles responds with a grin. “I still think you should’ve at least found a way to put ‘ass’ in it somewhere, but it’s still pretty good, I guess. 

 

Lydia whacks his bicep playfully. “Don’t be an ass.”

 

Stiles kisses her gently. “It's amazing. Allison would be proud of you.”

 

At the sound of her name, Lydia sighs, rolling her lips into her mouth, then she leans her head on Stiles’s arm. “I hope so.”

 

“Come on, Lyds. It’s getting late.” Stiles murmurs. 

 

Lydia stands and turns her back to him, sweeping her long strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder. “Unzip me.”

 

Stiles’s fingers still shake slightly as he lowers the zipper on the floral patterned dress she’s wearing. It’s like he’s still surprised at the intimacy they share. He still can’t believe that Lydia Martin loves him. When he reaches the end of the zipper, the dress falls open slightly, exposing a porcelain shoulder. Stiles presses his lips to the sensitive skin between her neck and arm, making her shiver. He senses Lydia’s arousal and continues, making his way up her neck until he reaches her ear. Then he gently traces the curve of her ear with his tongue. 

 

“Stiles…” Lydia breathes.

 

His large, spindly hands carefully slide the shoulders of the dress down her arms. She shimmies out of her dress until it lays on the floor, forgotten. Stiles’s hands find a new home as they snake their way up and down her sides and around her stomach. Lydia leans into him, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder. He continues to kiss her skin until the sensation is almost unbearable and Lydia finally turns to face him. Stiles presses his lips to hers, his tongue tasting her mouth, making her stomach leap and her toes curl. 

 

Lydia stands on tiptoe and wraps her arms around his neck. Everything else disappears until it’s just the two of them. This is the center of her world and her being. Everything else is just the dust of the future and the past, always ebbing and flowing around them. But, Stiles is solid and sure. Everything about them feels right. It’s like Lydia’s been living in a fog and she didn’t realize it until she fell in love with Stiles. He pulls away slightly to rest his forehead against hers and the tips of their noses touch, causing Lydia to smile. She hugs him to her, breathing him in and savouring this little moment. If they’ve learned anything over the past three years, it’s to enjoy the little moments of peace; the calm before the storm. Lydia only hopes that the storm has finally passed. 

 

Stiles straightens up and carries Lydia to the bed, carefully laying her down. Her hair fans out in a copper halo, the dim light of the desk lamp casting shadows on the wall above her. To Stiles, she looks like a goddess, a queen, a warrior. She’s his hero. There’s no one who could ever compare to Lydia Martin. He smiles as he takes her in, unbuttoning his shirt. Lydia sits up and stills his hands as she takes over and tugs the shirt from his shoulders. The t-shirt underneath joins the rest of their clothes until they’re in nothing but their undergarments. Stiles climbs on top of Lydia, kissing her stomach, in between her breasts, then the hollow of her throat. She arches her back and sighs against him. His breath quickens and her heart pounds as his lips touch her skin. He pauses again and Lydia thinks her heart will explode if he doesn’t come back to her. 

 

“I am so in love with you.” Stiles murmurs. 

 

“I love you too.” She responds. It sounds like a weak description of her feelings to her own ears, but to Stiles it’s the most beguiling phrase he’s ever heard. 

 

****

 

It's still dark outside when Lydia wakes up. For a moment, she struggles to remember what it was that startled her, but then she hears it again: whispers and voices. She sits up and gently extricates herself from Stiles’s arms, reluctant to part from his warm body. Before leaving her room, she slips Stiles’s t-shirt over her head, then carefully makes her way into the hall. The noise grows louder and an odd blue glow shines from beneath the closet door in the hall. The door knob is cold beneath her hand. She turns it and pulls only to find herself in someone else’s home. 

 

_ “Jack!”  _

 

Lydia’s head whips around to see a woman standing at the foot of a long staircase. 

 

“ _ Jack, you're going to be late for school, sweetheart! Make sure your sister is up!”  _

 

A boy of around 15 comes to the top of the stairs and Lydia recognizes him immediately. It's the guys from the party with the dark hair and the kind face. A little girl follows behind him until they reach the stairs then she pushes around him and flies down the steps, beating him to the bottom. 

 

The boy rolls his eyes. “ _ It's not a competition Gracie.”  _

 

The scene shifts, but the setting is the same. The boy- Jack- is sitting on the coffee table in front of Gracie. She’s sitting on the couch, a pillow in her lap, her eyes red and her face pale. She clings to Jack’s hands trying not to cry anymore. Lydia can feel the fear in her heart. 

 

“ _ I promised mom I’d take care of you, Gracie. It was one of the last things we talked about before she passed away. I don’t care if you’re 16 or 60, I’m going to take care of you, okay?” _

 

_ “What about you?”  _ Gracie cries. 

 

_ “Don’t worry about me.”  _ Jack reasons. “ _ I can handle this. But, you can’t give up your life for me, Gracie. I’m going to be okay.”  _

 

_ “Jack...” _

 

Lydia focuses on their expressions, trying to decipher what’s not being said. She looks around the room and her eyes fall on a stack of paperwork on the table. Without walking she finds herself in front of them, her thoughts transporting her body. She looks down at the stacks of scattered pages; they’re medical bills, test results, referrals. Finally she understands. 

 

“ _ Cancer doesn’t have to be a death sentence. I’m not ready to give up. You can’t give up either.” _

 

Suddenly another figure appears. Black hair cascades down her back and her eyes are a flat, cold, black. Her hands reach out towards Jack and Lydia realizes that she’s not a part of this memory; she, too, is an outside viewer. 

 

“Who are you?” Lydia asks her. The woman only smiles and the effect is less than comforting. Her teeth glide to a point. Lydia looks at her hands and sees the black nails extending from the ends of her fingers. Before Lydia can react, she wraps her long fingers around Jack’s neck. Then she opens her mouth wide and takes a deep, rattling breath…

 

Lydia screams. 

 

****

  
  
  


“Lydia! LYDIA!”

 

Lydia surfaces, gasping. She’s sitting in the floor of the hall closet, coats and boxes littering the floor. Stiles is there, crouching in the doorway, panic flooding his eyes. Lydia feels dizzy and nauseated, the image of the ghostly pale woman burned into her mind’s eye. 

 

“I’m okay. Stiles, I’m okay.” She manages to whisper. “I’m okay.”

 

Stiles tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, gently wiping a tear away with his thumb. It takes a few moments for Lydia to get her bearings. Embarrassment and frustration flood her body and mind. Stiles takes her hands and helps her stand before pulling her into a tight hug. She breathes deeply, snuggling into his shoulder. 

 

“What happened?” He murmurs into her hair. 

 

“I don’t know.” Lydia mutters, honestly. “I’m not sure. There was this guy…Jack. Malia and I saw him at the party the other night…”

 

Stiles pulls away, taking her face in his hands. “Jack Andrews?”

 

“I- I don’t know.” Lydia stammers. “He has a little sister named-”

 

“Gracie.” Stiles nods his head. “I know him. He’s dating one of the other seniors on the lacrosse team. He’s a nice guy. He was diagnosed with osteosarcoma a few years ago. He’s been in remission for almost a year now. Did you have a vision about him?”

 

“Stiles.” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “Vision?”

 

Stiles grins and warmth begins to find it’s way into her fingers and toes again. “You have a better name for them?”

 

“Whatever these are...premonitions, visions- this one felt different.” 

 

“Different?”

 

“It felt…” Lydia ponders for a moment. “More real. Like I was right there in the room. I could  _ feel _ them.” 

 

Stiles exhales and she feels the breath leave his lungs before rushing back in. His arms tighten around her, holding her close, trying to keep her safe.

 

“Okay.” He says. “Come on. Let’s get you warm and comfortable and then you can tell me all about it.”

 

Lydia looks up at his amber eyes and a surge of gratitude rushes through her. Stiles doesn’t look at her like she’s crazy. He doesn’t second guess her or dismiss what she’s feeling or seeing. Stiles is always there for her, no matter where she is or what she’s gotten herself into. Her eyes well up, but she blinks the tears away. 

 

“Okay.” She nods her head and follows him back to his room, their fingers intertwined.

 

****

Lydia lays next to Stiles for a long time before she finally sleeps. His skin is warm against hers beneath the blankets and his hair tickles her back as he cradles her from behind. The image of the woman still haunts her. Every time she closes her eyes she’s there, staring back at her. Finally, sleep sneaks up on her and takes her under. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graduation is upon them and....celebratory sex?

“Malia, you have to hold still.” Lydia says sternly. A reluctant grin spreads across her face. “5 more minutes and you’re done.”

 

“You said that a few weeks ago when I went on a date with Scott, too. And then it took another 45 minutes.” Malia says, rolling her eyes. The truth is, she doesn’t mind Lydia taking her time. In fact, she revels in the time they get to spend together doing  _ normal _ things. 

 

“So, how’d that go by the way?” Lydia asks. 

 

“I don’t know. Good?” Malia responds, shrugging noncommittally. 

 

“Okaaaay, but what happened?” 

 

“We ate dinner and then we went to a movie.” Malia says. 

 

“That sounds nice.” Lydia replies. She finishes Malia’s makeup and plays around with her cooling curls. 

 

“I can’t remember anything from the movie. I was too busy sneaking glances at Scott and worrying about what the fuck was going on between us.”

 

“Was?”

 

“I don’t know! Is?” Malia says. Her face falls. “I like Scott a lot.”

 

“Scott likes  _ you  _ a lot.” Lydia says matter-of-factly. “Go on another date! Let him come inside.”

 

“For sex?” Malia asks, her eyebrows knitting together.

 

“For whatever.” Lydia says absently. A stubborn piece of hair won’t lay with the others. 

 

“I’ve only had sex with Stiles and Nathan.” Malia says blankly. “Scott’s different though.”

 

Lydia sighs and deliberates for a moment. “How so?”

 

“Is this weird for you? I’m really sorry about bringing up Stiles and I having sex.” Malia says bluntly. 

 

Lydia laughs. “Malia, it’s  _ fine _ . It’s not weird. Is it weird that I'm  _ dating  _ Stiles? 

 

“No.” Malia says shaking her head. “You love him.”

 

“Would it be weird if I told you I've kissed Scott?”

 

“No. Wait, you made out with Scott?” Malia asks with a little laugh. 

 

“We were sophomores. And there was nothing between us. He’s a good kisser though.” Lydia says it like she’s reciting the forecast for the day. 

 

Malia flops back onto her bed and Lydia lays next to her. “I want to kiss him.”

 

“Then kiss him.” Lydia says simply. Malia rolls onto her side to look at Lydia. “Malia, your forward nature works in your favor in the dating world. Scott likes you a lot. I haven’t seen him look at a girl the way he looks at you in a long time. Not since-” She stops, taking a breath. “Not since Allison.”

 

Malia looks into Lydia’s eyes, aware of the implications and of the weight of those words. “What if I'm not good enough? I'm not Allison.”

 

Lydia reaches out and brushes a piece of hair away from Malia’s cheek. “That's true. No one is. But you're Malia Tate. You're your own woman. You don't have to be anyone else. Scott likes you for you.” 

 

Malia nods her head slowly and looks away. “Dating sucks.”

 

****

The air outside is a little chilly, but a warm summer breeze is moving in. Lydia fingers the folded piece of paper in her hand. Giving the speech itself will be easy, but talking about graduating will not be. In truth, Lydia could’ve graduated over a year ago, but she’d chosen to stay behind with her friends. Now, there’s no staying behind; all of them are moving forward, parting, changing. 

 

Stiles stands beside her, his fingers tapping against his thigh. Lydia doesn’t have to be a werewolf to know that he’s anxious, maybe even more so than the others. His fear of being left behind stems from his mother’s untimely death, an illogical response from the brain. Lydia wonders if he understands how much he means to the pack. When he returned from the Wild Hunt, everyone had been very clear about their elation, but still Stiles doesn’t seem to recognize the gravity of his own existence. 

 

Lydia reaches out to still his hands. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.” 

 

Stiles smiles at her and pulls her to his side. She leans into his embrace and wraps her arms around his middle. “Yeah. I know.”

 

Malia looks down the sidewalk at the two of them, grinning. She’s been pacing up and down the walkway for close to 15 minutes now. Scott finally pulls up on his bike and takes his helmet off before bounding up to meet the three of them. 

 

“Sorry I’m late. I had to do something. You guys ready?” Scott asks. His expression is calm, content, and sure. He’s grown so much. 

 

“Honest answer?” Stiles asks. Then he grins and follows Scott into the school. 

 

****

 

The seniors start to line up, Malia and Stiles in the back and Scott and Lydia towards the middle. 

 

Scott stands behind Lydia and she feels immensely comforted by his presence. When she turns to look at him, he’s wearing a very serious expression. “Scott, you okay?”

 

“Yeah! Just thinking.” He responds. 

 

“About Allison?” Lydia asks. He nods even though neither of them need confirmation. “I’ve been thinking about her all morning.”

 

“Me too. It’s why I was late. I stopped by the cemetery.” Scott explains. “I didn’t want to do this without seeing her first.”

 

Lydia reaches out to take his hand in hers. “She’d be really proud of you, you know. You’re a great leader, Scott. You’re the man she always knew you were. She loves you.”

 

“She loves you too.” He responds, squeezing her slight hand in his large, warm one. 

 

Before they know it, they’re filing into their seats. Speakers take the stage, repeating the same message. It’s one of determination and the rewards of hard work. Lydia barely hears them, anxiously awaiting her turn. Her heart jumps when her name is called. She breathes deeply before taking her place behind the podium. For a moment, she feels overwhelmed, but then she sees Stiles in the back and she feels okay. 

 

“Today is the last day of our high school career,” Lydia begins. “Tomorrow, we embark on an entirely new adventure, just as strange and special as this one. When you’re in high school it feels like it’s your entire world. Tests, quizzes, homework, studying... But, real life isn’t about tests and assignments. Life is about friendship, making connections, and finding happiness amidst a busy world that’s always in motion. Over the past four years, I have witnessed an immense growth in my own character as well as the constant growth of my peers. This is a monumental transition from childhood to adulthood. Some of us are moving forward with confidence. Some of us aren’t quite ready for the end. Others feel like they’re being left behind in the rush towards adulthood and independence. Still others just want to get through today and make it to tomorrow. But, no matter what path you choose, you are not alone. Distance, miles and miles of distance, don’t define your relationships with the people we care about.  _ We _ do. Careers will end and change. We’ll move. We’ll buy new cars. Time persists. But, someone I know once told me that it doesn’t matter where we go or what we do because we’ll always find the people we love most in this world in the end, even if it feels impossible. I’m so proud of each and every one of us for reaching graduation. It hasn’t always been easy or fun, but it’s been an incredible experience. Thank you all for joining me in celebrating a new beginning and a fierce end.” 

 

The crowd erupts in applause and Lydia tries to swallow down the lump in her throat as she makes her way off stage. She circles around to find her seat, passing Stiles along the way. His smile is so beautiful and, for some reason, it makes her want to cry. His hands reach for hers and she bends to swiftly press a kiss to his cheek before going to her seat. As she moves forward, his hand slowly falls away from hers, their fingertips slipping apart, and Lydia feels a discomfort in her gut that she can’t seem to shake for the rest of the day. 

 

****

“You did really well, Lydia.” Stiles murmurs against Lydia’s skin. 

 

They’re laying in bed next to one another, exhausted from the long day and dinner with their families at Scott’s house. Lydia is wrapped in one of Stiles’s lacrosse sweatshirts that falls just beneath her butt, grazing the tops of her thighs. Stiles runs his long fingers up her leg, and underneath the soft material, his fingertips grazing her black lace panties - his favorite.

 

“You know, as much as I love these on you, I think they look even better on my bedroom floor.” Stiles says mischievously. 

 

Lydia turns and gives him a look, raising one of her eyebrows. Stiles can barely contain his laughter. 

 

“Not feeling it?” Stiles asks, smiling innocently. 

 

“Mmmm.” Lydia hums. She pretends to ponder for a moment, before scrunching her nose at him and smiling. 

 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of working. You make weird sexy.” 

 

Stiles snorts. “Thanks Lyds, I try.”

 

Lydia rolls over to face him, grazing the neckline of his black t-shirt, the tips of her fingers tantalizingly dancing across the smooth skin of his neck. Stiles takes her hand in his and kisses each of her knuckles in turn before kissing the sensitive skin where her wrist and palm meet. When he meets her eyes, goose bumps rise on her skin and she can’t look away. Lydia should be used to the intensity of his gaze, but she never will be. Stiles’ eyes are kind and loving and warm.

 

Lydia runs a hand through his dark, messy hair, making it stand on end. Then she looks down at his red lips, his tongue flicking across them and finds herself unable to resist any longer. Lydia leans into him and kisses his jawline, his neck, his chest. He sits up and tugs his shirt off, laying back into the pillows as Lydia rolls them over and settles herself on his lap. 

 

“You look good in my sweatshirt.” Stiles says, grinning in a way that makes goosebumps rise on Lydia’s skin. 

 

“You look good in  _ no  _ shirt.” Lydia throws back at him. He laughs before scrunching his nose up at her. “Not feeling it?”

 

“Mmmm. I don’t know. You make weird kinda sexy.” Stiles says laughing. 

 

Lydia leans forward to capture his lips with hers, his hands sliding up her thighs, resting gently on her hips as she continues to kiss his skin. Stiles runs his tongue along her collarbone before nipping at the skin on her neck. Lydia gasps at the change in sensation and pauses long enough for Stiles to slip his sweatshirt off of her body. Her bra is next, his deft fingers unhooking the clasps with a practiced motion. 

 

“I’m getting pretty good at that.” Stiles murmurs, hugging Lydia to him, leaving a trail of kisses across her breasts. 

 

“There’s always room for improvement.” Lydia sighs, closing her eyes. She rocks her hips, grinding down on him. She can feel how hard he is beneath her and it makes warmth flood her lower belly. His hands climb her back, leaving an invisible trail of affection down the muscle and sinew in her back. Lydia runs her hands down the flexing muscles of his biceps as his hands move toward her breasts and their lips meet again. His tongue explores her mouth and she moans against his lips. He tastes like wintergreen mints and pizza and it makes her smile. 

 

“When’s your dad coming home?” Lydia mutters, eyes closed in pleasure. 

 

“Not until later. He stayed to help Melissa clean up. Then he might swing by the station.” Stiles responds.

 

Then he pushes her backwards, his hands gripping her thighs as he eases her down onto the plaid comforter. Lydia’s legs are spread and Stiles rests between them, his hands on either side of her head. He meets Lydia’s eyes and finds an immeasurable and irrefutable love residing there. Lydia cups his face in her hands, her thumbs feeling the soft skin of his sharp cheekbones. She traces his nose, endearingly turned up at the end. Then she plays connect the dots with his freckles and moles, following the their path until her hands are gliding down his chest. A dark line of hair disappears into his waistband of his pants and Lydia caresses it. For a moment, all they do is breathe. And then Stiles is easing himself down on top of her and she’s sighing at the feeling of his body’s weight above her. Her nipples rub against his chest, a delicious friction. Lydia loops her arms beneath his, her nails dragging across his skin. A bead of sweat slides down Stiles’s neck and Lydia catches it with her tongue. 

 

“You’re so beautiful, Lydia.” Stiles breathes in her ear. He eases his way down her body, kissing her neck, her chest, her stomach...Then he presses a kiss to the large scar Peter left; the physical representation of the moment when her life changed. Lydia shivers beneath him, closing her eyes to focus on the feeling. The feeling of being touched. The feeling of being loved. 

 

Stiles presses a kiss to the heat between her legs. She squirms a little and opens her eyes to look at him. He grins, slipping his fingers under the thin fabric of her underwear, slowly sliding them down her legs. He unbuttons his pants and slides them off before returning to his place above Lydia’s pink skin, flushed with adoration. Lydia kisses him and pulls him down to her body once more. There’s nothing between them. Her breathing hitches as he pulls her legs up around his shoulders and dips his head between her thighs. His tongue is cold against the intense warmth between her thighs and it makes her jump slightly. She can feel the rumble of his laugh against her skin.

 

“Stiles…” Lydia says. She curls her fingers into his hair holding him in place. Stiles continues to swirl his tongue in a figure 8 before gently sucking on the bud made of a thousand nerves into his mouth. Lydia cries out and grabs one his large hands resting on her thighs. She’s dizzy with want. It’s impossible to think about anything other than the feeling of Stiles’s lips, or tongue, or hands.... For now, nothing exists other than this safe space. There are no werewolves here. No kanimas. No nogitsunes. No berserkers or chimeras or ghost riders….

 

It’s just them. It’s always them. Stiles and Lydia. 

 

Lydia’s legs are starting to shake, so when Stiles pulls away she says “Lie back.” He blinks and his gaze falls to her lips. They adjust until they’re both comfortable and Lydia takes her turn. Stiles watches her every move, his fingers grazing her body lovingly. She meets his eyes before taking him into her mouth. His body jerks slightly and his breathing becomes slow and deep. Stiles pushes her hair away from her face and it slides over one shoulder so it tickles his thigh and stomach. Stiles melts at her touch, a softer, slower version of the guy she knows outside this room. 

 

She kisses her way up Stiles’s chest, climbing on top of him. Her mouth is on his, searing and swollen. Lydia rests her forehead against Stiles’s, the tips of their noses almost touching. His amber eyes look up into her green ones, his pupils deep black holes, swallowing her up.  Her heart is racing. Stiles’s eyes meet hers and she feels his breath quicken in his chest beneath her small hands. She doesn’t need to use words with Stiles; he understands. Lydia looks at him from beneath her long eyelashes, her body flooded with contentment. 

 

Lydia bites her bottom lip, a smile playing across her lips. Stiles rolls them over and reaches across her body and into his nightstand, pulling out a shiny silver square. Lydia takes it from him and rips it open with her teeth.  Then she pulls Stiles down towards her, their lips crashing against each other fervently. Lydia can feel Stiles shaking as he fights for control over his body. He settles himself between her legs again, lining himself up with her entrance. 

 

Stiles teases her, nuzzling her neck and pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Go slow.” She says in his ear. He kisses her tenderly before slowly sinking into her. “Oh my god.” Lydia sighs, her eyes watering from the initial discomfort. He patiently waits for her to adjust before pulling out and thrusting into her again, kissing her as he does so.

 

“Fuck!” She cries out when he quickens his pace. He grunts in response and kisses her throat,, the muscle in his arms flexing with each movement. His hand reaches between them, sliding down her stomach. She gasps and her legs start to tingle, warmth building in her thighs. Suddenly waves of pleasure cascade through her body, sweat trickling down her neck. Stiles groans as she tightens around him. They roll until Lydia is on top and the sensation is entirely new. 

 

“Lydia…” Stiles breathes, his hands gripping her hips. She settles on top of him and rolls her hips until his chest is heaving and his eyes fall closed. She can feel warmth and tension building in her thighs again. Stiles sits up and wraps his arms around her, holding her to him. Their bodies rub against one another, sweat mingling, and that alone is enough to send Lydia spiraling into another orgasm. Stiles’s hot breath wafts over her burning skin and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last. 

 

He slowly eases Lydia down onto the bed, laying next to her. They’re facing one another and he pulls Lydia closer until their foreheads are touching. She wraps her legs around him he enters her slowly, pushing to a depth Lydia hasn’t yet felt. They’re entirely whole. Nothing separates them. It’s so intimate feeling that a blush creeps up Stiles’s neck. Lydia meets his deep thrusts with her own. They maintain eye contact, focused entirely on each other. Their erratic breaths mingle until the pressure inside Lydia is too much and she reaches release again, tears running down her face. Stiles’s whole body shakes with restraint as he rides it out with her. The sound he makes is so raw and wrecked and beautiful. He kisses her one last time before pulling away and letting go. Lydia can’t take her eyes off of him. 

 

He licks his lips and looks over at the porcelain doll made of steel laying next to him. Her red waves are flames licking his bed. “Hey, you okay?” He asks. 

 

Lydia nods her head, tears still running down her cheeks. Stiles’s eyes glisten and his whole body is flushed. “You’re amazing, you know that right?”

 

Stiles grins and scoots closer to Lydia. She nuzzles into him, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. He wipes away her tears and kisses the top of her head.  He doesn’t have to say anything; Lydia can  _ feel _ the waves of tenderness and affection radiating from his body.

 

“Stiles, I love you. I love you  _ so _ much. I don’t know if I could live with losing you. Not again.”

 

“I’m here.” Stiles murmurs. “And I’m not going anywhere. If I believe in anything, I believe in us. You saved me, Lydia. You remembered me. You brought me back.”

 

Lydia exhales slowly. “What if one day I can’t. What if something happens and-”

 

“Lydia, we’re safe.  _ I’m  _ safe. And even when we’re not we have each other. We’ve got Scott and Malia, and those asshole children-” Lydia shoots him a look and he smiles. “We have each other. We’ve made it this far. I’m not going anywhere. Even if we’re not in the same city, or the same state, I’m going to be with you. Always. No matter what. Even if that’s scary as hell. We still have each other.”

 

Lydia’s chest feel like it’s going to break open and bleed out. 

 

“I promise I will always be right here.” Stiles repeats.

 

Promises scare Lydia. Promises are watching her mother cry over a gold band. Promises are the hot blood on the pavement beneath a broken warrior. They’re the gaping hole left when they’re broken.  _ Don’t make promises you can’t keep _ . She looks at Stiles and wants to believe in this one promise. Just this one time.

 

“Come on, I’ll turn the shower on.”

 

They shower together, Stiles rubbing Lydia’s back and massaging her scalp. She hugs him and the hot water runs over their bodies and down the drain, washing everything away.  Exhaustion weighs heavily on their shoulders and within a few minutes they’re lying in bed again under a plethora of blankets. Stiles sprawls out in the middle of the bed and Lydia lays on her side, her head on his chest and her leg hooked over one of his. She watches as he falls asleep, his face free of worry or fear. The sight comforts her and the smell of his skin feels like home. It’s nearly sunrise before she falls asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia has her most vivid vision yet. Jack's past unfolds, revealing tragedy that pulls Lydia under.

A cool breeze tickles Lydia’s skin, waking her. She opens her eyes, blinking away the sleep, and searches for the source of the cold. It’s easy to find; her curtains are billowing in the breeze coming in from her window. When Lydia’s feet hit the floor, she finds it warm to the touch, a sharp contrast from the cold air. Her brows furrow in confusion, but she puts the thought aside and reaches to close the window. It’s only then that she remembers that she hadn’t opened it. The hair on the back of her neck stands at attention and she quickly slams the window shut, her fingers fumbling to lock it. As she does so, she sees someone moving in the darkness outside. 

 

Moonlight shines on the figure of a young woman with fair skin and a heavy brow. Her lips are blood red, and her smile is sickly sweet. She meets Lydia’s eyes and motions for her to follow, turning her back and striding into the woods behind Lydia’s house. Lydia deliberates for a moment, but then her feet seem to move without her permission, taking her outside. The grass tickles her bare feet and the chilly air raises goosebumps on her skin. She’s only in shorts and one of Stiles’ t-shirts, but she ignores the biting cold and follows the figure moving through the trees, almost out of sight.

 

Twigs and rocks cut into Lydia’s feet, but she doesn’t feel it. The scene around her fogs and changes until she’s standing at the edge of a frozen lake. The woman is standing in the middle, smiling. She presses a finger to her lips.

 

_ “Shhhh.” _

 

The woman nods her head towards a group of kids laughing and talking on the other side of the lake. Lydia looks down at the frozen water and sees movement beneath the ice; dark waves undulate beneath the surface. One of the older boys skates out onto the ice and the others follow suit. Lydia smiles as they play, reminded of the time she’d gone ice skating with her best friends. It feels like it’s been an eternity since then. 

 

Something about the atmosphere feels familiar and when she looks at one of the older boys, she finally understands. Though his face is rounder and younger, he’s still Jack Andrews. Lydia’s heart falls and she looks around for the woman-  no,  _ creature  _ -that led her here. In the shadows, just beyond her view, she can see black eyes glistening in the darkness. It is a predator on the hunt, full of hunger and desperation. Lydia looks down again to see her purpling feet bleeding onto the ice. Pain shoots through her feet and legs and she slips, falling on her back and smearing blood across the surface of the lake. The ice rumbles, a deep groan resonating through the air. 

 

Jack skates past her, far from the rest of the group, all the way across the lake. He pauses at the noise, used to the ice grumbling after being untouched for so long.To be safe, he decides to skate back towards the others. He doesn’t make it far before cracks start to fan out below him.  _ “Shit.”  _

 

The others are oblivious to what’s about to happen, laughing and talking. 

 

_ “Hey, Colton, get everybody off the ice!”  _  Jack yells. A boy around his age nods his head, picking up on the situation. Jack tries to move forward, but another crack forms beneath his skates. Lydia can feel his heartbeat in her own chest. She crawls towards him, afraid to move even though she knows this isn’t real. 

 

The rest of the kids watch Jack as he makes his way towards them, but he barely reaches the middle before he has to stop. The ice is thinner here than he thought. 

 

_ “Somebody go and get my mom.” _  Jack says shakily. 

 

A kid runs off and within minutes Jack’s mother is standing at the edge of the lake, her eyes wide.  _ “Jackie, keep moving slowly, honey.” _

 

_ “I can’t.”  _ Jack says trembling. “ _ Mom, I can’t.” _

 

_ “You have to!”  _ His mother says firmly.  _ “I’m going to come out a little ways towards you, okay?” _

 

Jack nods his head, his eyes trained on his mother. She is his savior. His hero. She’ll rescue him.

 

_ “How many times have I told you to check the ice before you skate?”  _ She asks, to distract him.  _ “Looks can be deceiving. You know that.” _

 

Lydia stares hopelessly as the scene unfolds before her. She looks around at the black eyes in the trees, but they’re gone. An uneasy feeling settles deep in her gut. She closes her eyes and wills herself to wake up, but she knows this isn’t a regular nightmare. 

 

The scene grows foggy until only Jack and his mother are visible on the ice. She extends her hand and he grabs it and holds on tightly, tears rolling down his full cheeks

 

_ “Shhh, sweetheart you’re okay. I’m right here. Just hold on and come towards me. That’s it...you’re okay.”  _

 

Her voice is calm and soothing as she guides Jack away from the fractured ice. Once he’s far enough, she gives him a push and he starts to skate towards the edge, relief flooding his body. Just as he thinks they’re safe, he hears a thunderous groan followed by a large splash. His eyes close in anticipation, but it isn’t Jack that’s fallen under. He looks down and his feet are still on the surface. 

 

_ “MOM!”  _ Jack screams. 

 

He slides towards the gaping black hole, but stops short nearly 2 feet away. Water sloshes up on the ice, but there’s no sign of his mother. His hands shake as he sweeps away the dusting of snow on the surface, searching for his mother underneath. The hole where she fell is there, almost within reach, but his courage fails him. If he moves any closer, he’ll go under too…

 

Lydia crawls forward, her skin burning in the cold until she’s kneeling next to a boy without a mother, a boy who will grow into a man far sooner than he should have. She looks beneath the ice, but she already knows what’s happened. Suddenly a hand hits the ice from beneath, followed by a face. 

 

_ “MOM! MOM, NO!”  _ Jack screams. He pounds at the ice with his hands, screaming for help. Deep down he knows it’s over, but he can’t bring himself to stop trying to reach her. He watches as his mother drowns beneath him, slowly dying because he’s alive.

 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” Lydia sobs, but there’s nothing she can do. What’s done is done.

 

Then the ice beneath Lydia breaks open and pale, slimy fingers crawl up her body dragging her under, father and farther until there is nothing but darkness. Lydia claws at the creature’s hands, but the grip is firm. Her eyes open underwater to see the woman with the heavy brow staring at her. Her bloody lips part in a wide smile that is anything but kind. Then she grabs Lydia’s face with bone crushing force and yanks her face forward. Lydia screams as the gaping mouth covers her own. 

 

****

Stiles lays in bed, unable to sleep. It’s hard to sleep alone these days. Ever since he escaped the Wild Hunt, isolation feels unbearable. Sometimes when he closes his eyes all he can see is the darkened tunnel staring back at him, a gaping hole that goes nowhere. He sits up and turns a light on, wishing Lydia were here. Shivers run up and down his body and he pulls the blankets up around his neck. Ever since the nogitsune released his body, he can never seem to get warm. Except for when he’s with Lydia. Her warm skin always melts what ice still clings to his body. 

 

_ Lydia _ .

 

God, he loves her. He loves her more than he thought was possible for the human heart. At times, it feels like he’s going to burst into a million particles of stardust, unable to contain it any longer. Mentally, he makes a list of some of the things he loves about her to keep the darkness at bay. 

 

_ -Her smile _

_ -Her warm skin. _

- _ The two freckles under her left breast. _

_ -The way her nose scrunches up when she laughs.  _

_ -How loving she truly is.  _

_ -How smart she is. And how much she owns it.  _

_ -The tiny snores she emits when she falls asleep on him during a movie.  _

_ -The way her eyes look when the setting sun shines into them.  _

_ -The feeling of her tiny hand in his. _

_ -When she sings loudly in the car.  _

_ -When she sings softly at night while they study together.  _

 

Stiles frowns at this. He’s going to miss their late night study sessions. He’s going to miss a lot of things when they’re all in college, away from this town and each other...Stiles jumps, his phone ringing loudly. Natalie Martin’s number flashes across the screen and he picks it up before the end of the second ring. 

 

“Ms. Martin?” He says into the receiver. 

 

“Stiles!” She responds. “Stiles, is Lydia with you? Is she at your house?” 

 

Stiles shakes his head, confused, then realizes she can’t see him. “Uh, no. No. I took her home and dropped her off almost 4 hours ago.” His heart kicks at his ribs violently. “Why? What’s wrong?”

 

“I...I don’t know. I was walking to the bathroom and her door was open, but she isn’t in her room. The front door was open too. But her car is still in the driveway and she didn’t take her phone or keys with her. I don’t know where she is-” Natalie’s voice cracks. 

 

“Stay there in case she comes back. I’ll be right there!” 

 

Stiles hangs up his phone and hurriedly dresses in half darkness. He’s frantic, trying to decide what to do first. His fingers fumble as he dials Scott’s number. 

 

“Stiles?” Scott mumbles into the phone. 

 

“Something’s wrong. Lydia’s missing.” 

 

****

 

Scott’s already there by the time Stiles pulls into Lydia’s driveway. Stiles screeches to a halt and throws himself out of the jeep. 

 

“Oh, Stiles.” Natalie cries, her hand to her mouth. 

 

“It’s okay. It’s going to be fine. We’ll find her. She probably just…” Stiles can’t lie to her. His voice trails off and he looks desperately at Scott. “I told my dad. He’ll be here soon, okay? He’s going to call it in if Scott and Malia can’t find her soon.”

 

Natalie nods her head silently. A gray coyote comes bounding towards them, leaping over the bushes lining the sidewalk. Thick fur turns to olive skin and Scott throws her shorts and a t-shirt. Malia slips them on and takes her boots from his hands. She tugs them on and tightens the laces. 

 

“Okay, where do we start?” Malia asks. 

 

“She didn’t drive so she can’t have gotten far.” Stiles says quickly. 

 

“We’ll start close by then. The woods maybe?” Scott asks. 

 

Malia nods in tandem with Stiles. 

 

“Stay here and wait for my dad.” Stiles says to Lydia’s mom. 

 

“Maybe you should stay too.” Scott says gently. He places his hand on Stiles’s shoulder and squeezes. The contact is comforting, even if the words aren’t. 

 

“I’m not staying behind while you look for her.” Stiles retorts. 

 

“We don’t have time to argue…” 

 

“Then don’t. I’m coming with you.” 

 

Stiles heads towards the woods, looking back when he reaches the treeline. He flicks the switch on his flashlight, flooding the darkness with light. Scott’s eyes turn a vibrant red, Malia’s an icy blue, then the three of them disappear into the black night. 

 

They split up once they’re further into the woods, Malia going one way, the boys going another. It’s quiet save the sound of their footsteps pounding on the warm ground. Stiles feels a rising panic as time passes. It’s nearly an hour before Scott catches a scent. He stops abruptly and Stiles runs into him. 

 

“Ow. Sorry.” Stiles whispers. He watches as Scott tilts his head up to sniff the air. “What is it?”

 

Scott pauses for a moment before answering. “Blood.”

 

“Lydia’s?” Stiles asks, weakly. “Where? Can you hear her?”

 

“She’s close. I haven’t heard anything out of the ordinary yet. But, we’re getting closer.”

 

“Scott!”  Malia’s voice calls out. She walks down a small hill opposite them. “Do you smell it?” 

 

Scott nods. The three of them fan out, searching for Lydia. Worry rolls off of Stiles like poisonous gas. 

 

“Lydia!” Stiles yells into the darkness. “LYDIA!” 

 

He scans their surroundings, swinging the flashlight back and forth, but it doesn’t take long for them to find her. Stiles jogs until the trees are familiar and he’s standing before a expansive trunk, the lonely foundation of what used to be a massive tree. Sprawled out on top is Lydia. 

 

Stiles runs towards her, but it feels like those few feet between them are miles long. When he finally reaches her he leaps onto the nemeton to kneel beside her still body. She’s pale and shaking slightly, her eyes wide open, the stars above reflected there. Blood covers her feet and soaks into the nemeton. Stiles takes Lydia’s face in his hands and flinches. Her skin is so cold it burns him.

 

“Lydia. Lydia, please wake up. Come on, Lyds.” Stiles says under his breath. He checks her pulse and places his ear to her chest. “Scott! Malia! Over here! She’s over here!” 

 

Stiles’s voice sounds funny to his own ears, strained and desperate. He shakes Lydia slightly and when she doesn’t respond, he pulls her into his lap and wraps himself around her. He doesn’t care about the sharp stinging where they’re skin meets. He doesn’t care about anything except getting Lydia out of here. All he wants is to get her to safety. 

 

“Come on, Lydia. It’s me. It’s Stiles. I’m here.” He whispers to her. “Please come back. Come back to me. Please Lydia, don’t leave me. I love you, I love you…

 

Suddenly Scott is pulling Lydia from his arms and Malia is grabbing his hand. He doesn’t remember the walk back to Lydia’s house, his brain foggy with worry and fear. Natalie screams at the sight of her daughter hanging limply from Scott’s arms. 

 

“She’s alive! She’s breathing, but there’s something wrong. We have to get her to my mom. Now.” Scott says quickly. 

 

“No! She needs to go to a hospital.” Natalie cries. 

 

“Call Deaton and tell him to meet us at my house.” Scott replies. Then he takes Lydia and places her in the back of Stiles’s jeep. Malia follows him and climbs into the backseat. She lays across the bench and curls her body around Lydia’s small frame. 

 

“She’s going to turn hypothermic or go into shock. Body heat.” Malia explains. “We need to leave.”

 

Stiles and Scott pile into the jeep and they take off. Stiles looks behind him at Lydia’s still form. Malia meets his eyes, but neither of them say anything, terrified. Stiles holds Lydia’s hand in his, the cold ache a reminder that she’s still here. 

 

She’s cold and vacant and in danger, but she’s here. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fearful for his future, the pack tries to warn Jack of the danger ahead, but will he listen?

“She’s going to be okay.” Melissa says. “Deaton’s almost finished. We just have to let her rest and thaw out. And he’s made her an herbal mixture to drink that should help.”

 

Stiles lets out a great sigh and falls onto the chair he’s been pacing in front of for the past hour. Scott closes his eyes in relief, breathing deeply. Malia turns away from the three of them, staring into the kitchen.

 

“Malia?” Scott says gently. “You okay?”

 

Malia turns around, her eyes filled with tears that she’s too stubborn to let fall. “I wanna know what the hell happened out there.”

 

Before anyone can answer, Deaton’s footsteps sound on the stairs and they all turn to look at him. He takes his time, walking slowly towards the rest of them. The unsureness in his face makes Stiles’s stomach squirm and Malia shift her weight to her other foot restlessly.

 

“She’s sleeping.” Deaton says to the room. “The herbal mixture I gave her should help her get some rest and speed the healing process.”

 

“Can I go and see her?” Stiles asks, chewing on his thumb.

 

“Sure.” Deaton replies.

 

Stiles begins to rise from his seat but Deaton holds out a hand to stop him.

 

“But first, I need you to tell me about some of the dreams Lydia’s been having.”

 

Stiles looks up at Scott, knowing that he too feels the tension that builds just before a storm.

 

****

Lydia’s eyes dart around beneath her eyelids. Her limbs are heavy and motionless, but her mind is working, watching bits and pieces of Jack’s life flow past her in a fog. He’s kissing his boyfriend. He’s laughing with his sister. He’s crying at his mother’s funeral. He’s waiting for the first PET scan to come back. He’s holding his hair in his hands, crying and weak from the chemo treatments. He’s holding Gracie as she falls asleep. He’s walking again, he’s running, he’s smiling, he’s dying….

 

Lydia jolts awake, gasping for breath. Arms fold around her protectively and she clings to them like a drowning woman. She smells a mixture of fresh laundry and warm musk and recognizes it as Stiles’ scent. This only makes her cling even harder. Stiles strokes her hair gently, murmuring reassurances until she finally relaxes and looks up at him.

 

“Stiles…” Lydia starts, but tears threaten to overflow. She blinks and swallows hard until she’s composed enough to speak. “Stiles she’s going to kill him. This thing is going to kill Jack. It’s going to kill everyone.”

 

She describes the night’s events to him, watching as Stiles’s expression gradually darkens. When she gets to the end, she pauses, unsure how to explain what happened next. Her eyes become unfocused as she remembers the cold clamp of the dark-haired woman’s mouth on hers.

 

“Lydia?” Stiles prompts, gently.

 

“Yeah.” Lydia says, shaking her head. “Sorry- I just...Something happened and I don’t know what it means. I _felt_ something. Just before everything went black, she...she kissed me. She put her mouth over mine and it felt like she was pulling my insides out through my mouth. It was like she was trying to…It felt like she was trying to pull out my soul. But, for some reason she couldn’t. And after that  I felt a deep loneliness. I felt lost and alone and confused. But, I don’t think those were my emotions. I think those were hers.”

 

Stiles looks into her eyes and nods, trying to make sense of everything that’s happened. When it comes to Lydia, his mind always clears and everything else is only background noise. “We’ll figure this out, okay? We always do.”

 

Lydia nods. “Stiles, we have to tell Jack.”

 

****

Lydia’s hands shake, but she feigns confidence when Jack opens his front door.

 

“Hey, Jack!” Scott says, brightly. “How are you? Do you mind if we come inside?”

 

“Uh, not at all. I’m going out soon though, so…”

 

“No problem. This will only take a few minutes.” Scott replies.

 

“Hopefully.” Stiles interjects.

 

Jack ushers them in, asking if they want anything to drink. Once they’re all seated in the living room, Lydia’s palms start to sweat a little. Stiles holds her hand, rubbing soothing circles into the sensitive skin between her thumb and palm. The repetitive sensation slows her heartbeat and allows her to breathe easier.

 

“Great job in that last game of the season, Scott. The lacrosse team won’t know what to do without you.” Jack says, grinning.

 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Scott responds with a smile.

 

“I was also on the team.” Stiles interjects, with an awkward thumbs up. “I wasn’t nearly as bad as I seemed.”

 

Lydia looks at him over her shoulder, giving him a lethal stare that he only smiles at. “I’m Lydia.” She says, sticking her hand out for Jack to shake.

 

“I know who you are. You’re a genius. You have record high grades at Beacon Hills.” Jack responds.

 

“Yeah...um-” Lydia says, surprised.

 

“We need to talk to you about something.” Malia says, getting right to the point. Lydia meets her eyes in thanks.

 

Jack looks up at her, startled by her straightforward approach. “What’s this about?”

 

Scott leans forward, taking the lead. “What we’re going to tell you may be hard to believe, but it’s really important that you try and understand.” When Jack doesn’t respond he plows onward. “We think your life's in danger.”

 

Oddly enough, Jack laughs. “Look, I don’t know if this is a joke or something, but-”

 

“It’s not a joke.” Stiles says quickly. “Trust me. This is definitely _not_ a joke.”

 

Jack’s brows knit together in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would my life be in danger? Other than the constant concern that cancer could return at any moment and kill me?”

 

Jack says it casually, like death is merely an afterthought. Lydia looks at him and she can feel how close he’s been to death before. And she can feel how close he is now. “I’m so sorry that you’ve struggled in the past. I know it’s been really hard for you, but...something is happening and we want to keep you safe.”

 

Jack clenches his jaw, a muscle twitching there. “Look, you don’t know anything about me. What is this?”

 

“Listen, there’s something trying to hurt people. We don’t know what it is, but we think it’s latched onto you. And if we don’t do something about it, you could...” Scott says, drifting off and looking at Lydia.

 

“You could die.” Lydia finishes.

 

“How do you know this exactly?” Jack asks, looking perturbed.

 

“I’m a ...banshee. I _know_ that sounds crazy. But, I can predict death. And lately, I’ve been having nightmares...ones that have you in them. We don’t know what they mean yet, but...this creature that’s attached to you has shown me pieces of your life. The hard pieces. And we think she may be attracted to you because you’ve experienced some...difficult things.”

 

Jack stares at her and swallows hard. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. This isn’t okay. You can’t just come into my house like this and say I’m going to die. You don’t know _anything_.”

 

“Jack…” Scott says gently. “Please, we’re just trying to help.”

 

“I want you to leave. Now.” Jack says standing up.

 

“I know about your mom.” Lydia says, looking up into Jack’s face. He’s changed little in the eyes, though his jaw is sharper and his shoulders  are broader.

 

“You don’t know shit.” Jack says, shaking his head.

 

Stiles stands up. “Don’t talk to Lydia like that. Alright? She’s trying to save your life, dumbass.”

 

Jack doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t sit back down.

 

“I know what happened. I know she died trying to save you out there on the ice. And I know you blame yourself.” Lydia says softly.

 

“Please get out.” Jack says, pleading. His voice shakes. “Please just leave.”

 

“I saw it, Jack. I had a vision. How else would I know? I just want to help you!” Lydia says desperately.

 

“I don’t know how you know all of that about me. And I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I’m asking you to leave. So, leave. _Now._ ”

 

Footsteps sound on the stairs and a few seconds later Grace is standing in front of them.

 

“What’s going on? I heard voices.” Her eyes are narrowed and she’s looking over the group of strangers, evaluating the situation.

 

“Nothing, Gracie. Just some friends from school. They’re leaving.”

 

Lydia can’t help but stare at the girl before her. She feels like she knows her, despite their never having met. Jack escorts the pack to the door and Lydia is the last one out. Just before he closes the door she turns around and looks at him one last time.

 

“Please, listen to me.” She says quietly.

 

Jack shakes his head, looking at Lydia with something like pity, before shutting the door and locking it.

 

****

“Lydia, it's not your fault, alright?” Stiles says. “We’ll find a way to save him. We need to figure out what exactly is trying to kill him though.”

 

Lydia looks up at him from the edge of her bed. He’s been pacing all afternoon, wearing the carpet thin with his aimless steps. “So, it’s a woman. Or at least it _looks_ like a woman. Right?”

 

“Mmm.” Lydia says lost in thought. “But, it feels...genderless. Like it’s neither a girl or a boy.”

 

“More like...an entity maybe?” Stiles says, stopping.

 

“Maybe. I don’t know how to describe it. It felt like it could have been a person at one time.”

 

Stiles starts pacing again. “So, it’s genderless, aggressive, tries to kill people…”

 

“Stiles…” Lydia says quietly.

 

“It could be anything...tried to eat your insides….accesses people’s memories…..at least the ones she attaches herself to...I don’t know, maybe we should start looking through some books about mythological creatures…I have a lot of print outs from when Scott got bitten...”

 

“STILES.” Lydia says loudly and abruptly. Stiles turns to look at her, startled by the change in her demeanor. “What if it’s nothing?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What if I’m losing my mind? What if-”

 

“Lydia, it’s not nothing. These nightmares- these _visions_ \- you’ve been having...they’re real. You felt it inside you. You saw parts of Jack’s life that actually happened. Don’t give up.”

 

“I’m not!” Lydia snaps. She sees the hurt look on Stiles’s face and immediately deflates. “I’m sorry. I’m just...frustrated.”

 

Stiles sits down next to her and brushes her hair away from her face. “Hey...look at me. We’ll figure this out.”

 

Lydia nods her head, but it’s more of a reflex action and less of an accurate depiction of what she’s feeling. But, when she looks up into Stiles’s face, she finds hope there and it eases some of the tension in her body. They kiss, his soft lips pressing against hers, warm and loving. Lydia decides to get ready for bed while Stiles reads through a copy of the George Washington University freshman advisory booklet. She’s brushing her teeth when she feels it: a hard tug just behind her navel. Her vision suddenly feels cloudy and her head begins to spin.

 

“Stiles!” Lydia says. But, although it sounds loud in her own ears she’s only whispering. She falls to her knees on the bathroom floor and clutches her head. Lydia knows what this is. This isn’t a vision or a nightmare, this is a premonition. Jack’s face floats in her mind’s eye and gleaming, razor sharp teeth flash before her until suddenly, _finally,_ she screams. She can feel Stiles’ arms wrapped around her and knows he’s closer than he should be. Blood from his ears falls onto her back and trickles downward, a warning. When she stops, she can’t catch her breath. Stiles continues to hold her tightly.

 

“He’s dying.” Lydia says, her face vacant and broken. Tears stream from her eyes. “Jack. He’s going to die tonight.”

 

****

It’s getting dark, but Jack knows his way through this cemetery. Every Sunday he comes here to visit his mother. Her tombstone is a dark gray, slick with rain. He pulls his jacket around himself a bit tighter, shivering. It’s a cold rain and the daylight is nearly gone. There’s a rustling behind him and he turns to see a woman dressed in dark clothing.

 

“Is she your mother?” She asks.

 

Jack is struck by her unique features, her mouth a red gash against her ashen skin. “Um, yeah.”

 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She says kindly.

 

“Who’re you here to see, if you don’t mind my asking.” Jack responds. He feels an itch, his skin crawling. But, then the woman smiles and he relaxes.

 

“No one, really. I just come here sometimes.”

 

She smiles again and her teeth gleam.

 

“That’s kinda morbid.” Jacks says, his eyebrows furrowed. “You know that right?”

 

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life, but they’re really far away. I’m not from here. So, sometimes I come here to feel connected to the other world. I know it sounds really silly…”

 

“No! No. Not at all.” Jack responds. Her eyes are so dark he can’t see her pupils. “Where are you from?”

 

“Israel.” She says, smiling.

 

It’s only now that Jack realizes her skin color is off. It isn’t the warm brown of the middle east. It’s the skin of someone who’s been rotting in the dark. As soon as the thought comes to him it’s gone. “You must miss it.”

 

“Oh, I miss a lot of things.” She says, leaning closer. She mutters something in a different language under her breath. She notices Jack staring at her in confusion. “It’s a prayer to the dead. Will you pray with me, Jack?”

 

“How do you-?” The question dies on Jack’s tongue as she holds out her hands. The itch has returned, inflaming his brain. He ignores it and places his hands in hers.

 

Her grip is strong, stronger than Jack thought it would be. When she grins, her teeth look sharper this time. “You’ve experience so much loss, Jack. Let me take it from you.”

 

“I have to go home now.” Jack says quickly, trying to pull away, but her hands hold fast to his. “Let go, please, I have to get home.”

 

“JACK!”

 

He turns his head towards the shout and sees a familiar red head running towards him. “Lydia?”

 

“Jack, don’t listen to her!”

 

The woman growls deep in her throat. “Give yourself to me, Jack.”

 

“Let him go!” Scott says as they reach the pair. They halt a few feet away. “Let him go.”

 

The woman doesn’t answer him. Instead her gaze swings to Stiles and she tilts her head. Malia looks between the two of them before stepping forward.

 

“Are you deaf? He said let go.” She growls. Her eyes turn to an icy blue and claws grow from her fingertips.

 

The woman drops Jack’s hands, but as if in a trance he merely stands there. Stiles tries to run forward, but Scott flings out a hand.

 

“Wait! Don’t get near her.” Lydia says. She steps toward the dark woman. “What do you want?”

 

“To survive.” The woman’s voice grates against Lydia’s ear drums.

 

“Let him go and tell us what you need.” Lydia says.

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Scott asks. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to hurt Jack to get it.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, alpha.” She grins, black blood oozing from the corners of her mouth. Then she opens her mouth and hisses, the whites of her eyes fading to black and dark needle sharp nails growing from her fingers.

 

She springs forward and Scott turns, his eyes a searing red. He roars and rushes towards her, his claws slashing the woman’s skin. But where there should be blood there’s only ash and black liquid. Malia kicks her hard in the back and she flies forward, but it isn’t long before she’s turning around and snaking her way towards them. Scott jumps, flipping over her. She’s stuck with Malia ahead of her and Scott behind her. Malia roars and runs forward knocking her to the ground, but the creature only laughs before cutting Malia’s throat with her nails. Blood rushes to the surface of Malia’s skin and she clutches her throat. Before she can recover, nails dig into her chest and stomach and she falls backwards into the mud, choking on her own blood.

 

“Malia!” Lydia shouts and she runs to her aid, dropping to her knees.

 

“I’m fine.” Malia manages. “Go!”

 

Lydia turns to see Scott with his arms wrapped around the woman, trying to restrain her, but she sinks her teeth into his arm and yanks her head upwards ripping the flesh from his bones. He cries out, but doesn’t let go. The harder he clings, the weaker he feels until he can’t hold her any longer. The moment he lets go she practically flies to Jack, knocking him to the ground. He doesn’t respond, almost comatose, staring up into her dark, hooded eyes.

 

“NO!” Stiles yells, running at them. He picks up a piece of broken stone and throws it at her. She whips around with a hiss, Scott’s blood still freshly smeared down her chin. “Oh, shit.”

 

“Stiles!” Lydia screams, horrified. She runs towards him, but her feet slip and slide in the mud, rain obscuring her vision. “Stiles, get out of the way!”

 

Stiles looks down at Jack then over at the creature opening it’s jaws and thinks _I have to try_. He throws himself between her and Jack. “Come on, Jack. Get up! Jack, come on! Fuck...Get up!” He smacks Jack across the cheek and Jack finally blinks, looking up at him.

 

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Jack says, looking around.

 

“I’m trying to save your life! Now, get your ass up and run!” Stiles says, grabbing Jack by the front of his jacket and pulling him up.

 

“Stiles, look out!” Jack yells.

 

Before Stiles can react, he feels  a sharp stinging in his side and the hot flow of blood soaking through his shirt. Then he’s thrown to the ground, his head knocking against one of the tombstones. “RUN!” He cries out, groaning.

 

Jack takes off, his feet pounding against the soft ground, but he can hear the ragged breaths behind him. Lydia looks between Stiles and Jack and everything seems to move in slow motion.  There’s no way she can run fast enough to reach Jack. She takes a deep breath and screams for the second time that night, using her hands to direct the sound.

 

Jack slips and falls to the ground. The creature descends upon him. Just before Lydia’s scream reaches them, she opens her mouth wide and clamps it over Jack’s, blood spurting from their joined mouths. She holds his head still with her long, spindly fingers and breathes in, sucking everything from Jack’s body; his memories, his dreams, his past, his future, his life, his _soul_ belong to her now. She throws her head back and wipes her mouth with a sigh.

 

Lydia’s scream gains force with Jack’s death, knocking the blood soaked woman to the ground. Even the rain skirts Lydia’s scream as it hurls itself forward. Lydia runs, but the woman is already on her feet. With a smile, she closes her eyes and disappears, leaving nothing but a puddle of blood behind her. Lydia kneels next to Jack’s body.

 

“Jack?” She whispers.

 

His eyes flutter open and he chokes one last word out. “Gracie…”

 

Then he’s gone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia struggles to cope with Jack's death, blaming herself for what happened. Afraid to use her power, Lydia isolates herself, feeling useless and afraid. Stiles reminsds her just how important she is.

Lydia doesn't go to the funeral.

 

In fact, she doesn't go anywhere for a long time. Weeks pass by, the summer sun scorching Northern California. She barely leaves the house, spending most of her time sitting in the bay window of her bedroom staring out at the world. 

 

_ Jack’s death is my fault _ .

 

No matter what she does, that single sentence seems to etch itself into her brain, digging deeper and deeper as time passes. The first time she sees Gracie, it's on the lacrosse field at a memorial held for Jack. She's clinging to Jack’s boyfriend and her father, sobbing, and Lydia has to go to the bathroom to throw up. Stiles holds her hair and rubs her back until she stops, her eyes streaming.

 

Malia visits Lydia’s house frequently, trying to bring her out of her stupor, but can never seem to get past that last wall Lydia’s built up over the past month. Scott sits with Lydia on her bed, scrolling through Netflix, while Stiles shadows his dad at work in preparation for his pre-FBI training. Lydia falls asleep on Scott’s shoulder most of the time, her arm looped through his, her muscles twitching as she dreams. He pulls the blanket up over her and leans his head on top of hers, the two of them submerged in defeat. 

 

Every night Stiles sleeps in Lydia’s room or brings her to his, scared to leave her alone, aware of the darkness she feels around her heart. He holds her close and kisses her shoulder at night, wishing she’d just let herself cry. She hasn’t cried once since the night Jack died. They’ve lost people before, but it never gets easier to witness or bear. 

 

Tonight they’re at Lydia’s house, sitting on the back porch as the moon rises. Lydia’s barely said anything so Stiles fills in the gaps, trying to keep her afloat.

 

“So, have you heard anything from campus housing? I bet the dorms at MIT are  _ way _ better than George Washington’s. You could probably get an apartment just outside the campus though, then you would have more room and privacy.” Stiles says, glancing at Lydia. She’s braiding a piece of her hair absentmindedly, but at this she meets his gaze. 

 

“Privacy, huh?” Lydia says, the ghost of a grin on her lips. 

 

“Yeah, you know, so you can do whatever you want without someone else giving you shit about it,” Stiles says, feigning seriousness. “Besides, you take about 10 years in the shower and let me tell you, not everyone is as accepting of that as I am.”  

 

“True,” Lydia muses, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ”Plus, we can have loud sex and no one can complain about it.” 

 

“Yeah. You’re right. An apartment is probably best.” Stiles says, smiling roguishly. 

 

Lydia smiles and leans in to kiss him. “I love you, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles says with a shrug. 

 

“Okay, Han Solo,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. She almost feels like herself again. “Let’s go inside.”

 

Stiles stands up and offers his hand to her, helping her up. Lydia jumps up onto his back, resting her cheek against his shoulder and closing her eyes. He grips her slender legs with his hands before running up the stairs. When they reach her bedroom, Stiles falls back onto the bed, landing on top of her. It knocks the wind out of both of them and makes Lydia laugh. 

 

“Get off,” she grumbles, trying to flip him over. He doesn’t budge, spreading out his limbs and making it impossible for her to move anything except her arms and hands. Her legs are still wrapped around him, but she can only wiggle. 

 

“Sorry, did you say something? Your voice is kinda muffled, I couldn’t tell,” Stiles says, turning his head to the side. 

 

“Mieczysław Stilinski, get off of me!” Lydia laughs. Then she tickles his neck and he jerks away and falls off the bed. 

 

Lydia slides into the floor with him and straddles him, pinning him down. “If we stay like this forever, you can’t go to D.C.”

 

Stiles smiles sadly. “Well, then you can’t go to MIT.”

 

Lydia’s face takes on a very serious expression. “I’m going to miss you.”

 

“I’m going to miss you too. But, we’re not far from each other.” Stiles says, rubbing her thighs. “Whenever you need me, I’m there, okay?”

 

Lydia nods and stands up, stepping over Stiles. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Where are you going?” Stiles asks, pushing out his lower lip. 

 

“Bathroom!” Lydia says over her shoulder. 

 

As soon as she’s inside she locks the door and sits on the edge of the tub. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes and she wipes them away, shaking her head. Everything, especially the future, is painful to think about nowadays. Everything Lydia thought she was ready for seems more daunting, and the thought of being separated from Stiles makes it all feel even worse. Lydia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. As she does so, she feels something familiar, eating at the edges of her mind. There’s the shadow of a woman there, ready to kill. A girl’s face swims before her eyes and panic assaults Lydia’s senses. 

 

“No,” Lydia begs. “No no nononono… _ Please. _ ” 

 

She puts her hands over her ears, and squeezes her eyes shut even tighter, waiting. Finally the image recedes, a splitting headache taking its place. Her hands fall into her lap. It’s the third time this week that she’s experienced this; the onslaught of a vision, the panic flooding her body, and the abrupt end to it all. When she’s able to catch her breath, she stands and looks at herself in the mirror. 

 

“What’re you doing? What’s wrong with you?” She asks her reflection. 

 

Lydia wipes her eyes and opens the door, climbing onto the bed next to Stiles. 

 

“You okay?” He asks, concern twisting his features. 

 

“I’m fine.” Lydia says. She kisses his cheek and hates herself for lying. “I’m okay.”

 

****

“They found another body,” Malia says, watching Lydia’s reaction. 

 

She’s been helping Malia with summer school assignments for weeks now, trying to help her prepare for college. Lydia always reads while Malia scribbles down answers, stopping here and there to ask a Lydia question. She knows all the answers, supposedly. Except for the important ones like:  _ why can’t I get a grip and help the pack catch this killer? _

 

Lydia tries to steady her heartbeat as Malia’s words sink in. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Another kid at the high school.” 

 

“Do they have any leads?” 

 

“Lydia, we both know what this is,” Malia responds bluntly, quirking an eyebrow. 

 

“Do we?” Lydia asks lightly. Internally she’s screaming at herself.  _ Why are you even contesting this when you know the truth? What’s the point? _

 

“For a genius, you’re being really stupid.” Malia says folding her arms. 

 

Lydia’s eyes flash, but Malia stands her ground. “Malia, we don’t  _ know  _ that it’s the same thing.”

 

“ _ Yes _ we do.” Malia argues. “Scott and I have looked at all the bodies that have been brought in lately. They’re all people who’ve had traumatic pasts. They all have bruising around their mouths. They all have the same cause of death.”

 

“Which is?” Lydia asks, pretending to read her book, even though her mind stopped absorbing the words as soon as Malia spoke. 

 

“Asphyxiation. Because some crazy bitch is literally sucking the life out of them!”

 

Lydia ignores her, fighting the rising panic in her throat. Malia sits down on the window seat next to her, gently taking the book from Lydia’s hands. 

 

“Lydia, you’re my best friend. I know you think what happened to Jack is your fault. But it isn’t The only person responsible for his death is the person who killed him. You know that.”

 

Lydia shakes her head. “I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve tried harder to get him to understand. I should’ve watched him more closely-”

 

“Stop.” Malia says firmly. “Asking yourself ‘what-if’ every day isn’t going to change anything. There are people who are in danger  _ right now _ that we can save. But, we need you. I’m really worried about you. We all are.”

 

“Been talking about me, have you?” Lydia asks, pulling her hands away. “I’m fine. I haven’t had any visions or dreams or anything in weeks. Nothing.”

 

Malia searches her face. “Lydia, what aren’t you saying?”

 

“Nothing!” Lydia says, but her heartbeat skips and Malia doesn’t miss it. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re keeping from us, but you can’t avoid this.”

 

“I’m not trying to keep anything from you.” Lydia argues, but she knows that isn’t completely true. “I just..haven’t seen anything. I’m not trying to stop it. It just hasn’t happened.” Her eyes fill with tears and she can’t help but ask the question that forms in her mind. “Is this what it felt like when you lost Tracy?”

 

Malia softens at Lydia’s words, taking her hand. “This is  _ exactly _ what it felt like when I saw Tracy die. I felt hopeless and guilty and  _ you _ reminded me that the only way to get through this kind of pain is to keep going. We have to keep trying, Lydia. We can’t afford to give up.”

 

Malia tucks a strand of hair behind Lydia’s ear. Lydia looks over at her and nods. “I know.”

 

“Well, the rest is up to you then.” Malia says sadly. 

 

Lydia’s eyes follow her out of the room. 

 

****

 

Lydia sits in the floor, sifting through her things, deciding what to take to MIT with her and what to leave behind. All the while, a heavy weight sits on her shoulders. Four people have died since Jack.  _ Four _ . And she can’t do anything about it. Every time she feels the beginnings of a vision pulling her under her body tenses and her mind shuts down until it’s impossible for anything to worm its way into her brain. It isn’t a conscious effort; it's more like a reflex action that develops from a traumatic incident, a way for her body to protect itself. 

 

_ How am I supposed to help anyone if I can’t help myself? _ Lydia thinks.  _ People are dying and I can’t even use my powers to stop it _ .

 

She hasn’t told anyone about the struggle she’s been having with her own body - frustrated that she can’t control the only power she has, embarrassed to admit it to her closest friends, and terrified that people will continue dying because she can’t get a grip on this. Unbeknownst to anyone else she’s been trying yoga, meditation, conscious breathing… Anything to allow her body to open up and trust itself again. Nothing seems to work though and she can feel the pack’s questions and see Stiles’ concern. 

 

Stiles is sitting in the middle of her bed, his black t-shirt hugging his shoulders and biceps. He runs his hands through his hair over and over again, looking through pages of the bestiary. Lydia puts down the clothes in her hands and watches him. She can’t help but smile a little as he scratches his jaw and starts chewing on his thumb. She notices his hand drift towards his side and her face falls. There are four purple scars stretching across his side and onto his back, the shadow of a wound Lydia was terrified he’d never fully recover from. Sometimes at night she can feel him tossing and turning, trying to lay some way that wouldn’t cause a sharp pain to jolt through his abdomen. According to Deaton, this had something to do with the black substance that dripped from the creature’s sharp, tapered nails, but it would heal over time. Lydia wishes she could say the same of her psychological wound, but for once, she really isn’t sure. 

 

“There’s nothing in this damn book about this thing.” Stiles says, closing his laptop and shoving it away. “How are we going to stop it, if we don’t even know what ‘it’  _ is _ ?” 

He falls backward with a grunt and pulls one of Lydia’s pillows over his face. Lydia looks up again and frowns. “Have you asked Deaton?” 

 

“Deaton says he’s never seen or heard of anything like this. Especially not here in Beacon Hills. Maybe it’s something new. Like the chimeras.”

 

“No, it’s old. Impossibly old.” Lydia says. The words feel odd as they fall from her lips, as though someone else is saying them. She’s not sure how she knows this, but at the same time she’s positive that she’s right. “She’s ancient and lost and...scared.” 

 

“Scared?” Stiles asks, his brow furrowing.

 

Lydia closes her eyes and tries to remember what she felt whenever she was close to the dark woman. Her mind feels cloudy and she pushes herself harder, trying to clear the fog. Her breath starts to quicken and her heart pounds in her chest. “Yeah. Like she...needs to find something she’s lost. She’s lonely and angry. She feels….trapped. And there was something else...Something like longing.”

 

Lydia open her eyes to see Stiles staring at her, his eyes unfocused. His mouth falls open and his eyebrows knit together again.

 

“Lost and longing…” Stiles mumbles. 

 

“Stiles?” Lydia says, confused. 

 

“She’s lost and longing. Wandering for home.” He says it like he’s in a trance. All at once he blinks and clambers off the bed. “Lydia, I know what this is!  _ I know what she is! _

 

“What?” Lydia says, dropping her things. She quickly stands and hops over the pile of books in the floor. “Stiles, what is she?”

 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, thinking hard. “It’s from a kid’s book my Babcia used to read to me when I was little.”

 

“Your grandma?” Lydia asks. 

 

“Yeah. My mom’s mom. She died when I was really young, but she used to read me this kid’s book. She left it to me. It was a Hebrew folktale. My grandparents were Jewish immigrants from Poland.” Stiles says all of this without taking a breath, looking wildly around as he remembers. “There was this monster in this story that lived in Israel thousands of years ago! It was a woman that died during the Jewish diaspora. Her soul was restless and  _ lost _ , Lydia. She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t. So she would essentially haunt people, sometimes even possessing them in an attempt to find her own body and search for her family. The people she took didn’t survive because she  _ took their souls _ ! She took their souls so she could feel whole again.”

 

Comprehension dawns on Lydia’s face as she remembers the advanced religious studies course she’d taken over the summer a few years ago for college credit. “She  _ clings _ to people.”

 

Stiles nods, meeting Lydia’s eyes. “She’s a Dybbuk. The Yiddish word for ‘cling.’”

 

****

 

Scott sits down in a chair at the kitchen table and exhales heavily. “It’s a soul-eater.”

 

“Kind of, yeah.” Stiles confirms. 

 

“So, this Dy…?”

 

“Dybbuk.” Lydia says promptly. “Dib-uck. That’s the english pronunciation anyway.” 

 

“Right, Dybbuk…” Scott says, concentrating. “She wants souls in order to fill some kind of void?”

 

“She lost her home,” Lydia says, heavily. “And her family. Her spirit doesn’t know where to go without them. All she wants is to go home.”

 

“Well, that and murdering innocent people to do it.” Malia says roughly. “Look, I know her story is sad, but it doesn’t negate  _ anything _ she’s done. She’s killed people.”

 

“No one’s excusing what she’s done.” Scott says softly, rubbing Malia’s arm. She relaxes at his touch, sitting down next to him.

 

Stiles doesn’t miss the casual way that they touch each other. His eyes widen in shock “Are you guys-”

 

Lydia elbows him in the ribs. “Not now,” she murmurs.

 

“How do we stop her?” Scott asks, looking up at Stiles. 

 

“How do we  _ find _ her?” Malia asks. 

 

Stiles shakes his head, then looks at Lydia. “The only time we’ve ever seen her was…”

 

“When I led us to her.” Lydia says finishing his sentence. “And I haven’t been doing much of that lately.”

 

Her three favorite people in the world stare up at her and she can’t stand the confusion and disappointment on their faces. She knows it isn’t directed at her, but she feels responsible all the same. 

 

“It isn’t-” Scott starts, but Lydia cuts him off. 

 

“No, it is. It’s my fault. I haven’t had any dreams or premonitions or even inklings of where she is or what she’s doing. With Jack, it was so strong. But, after he died…” She casts her eyes downward, not wanting to continue. 

 

“What, Lydia?” Malia asks. 

 

Lydia looks up at Stiles, trying not to cry. “After he died, they stopped. I’d get the feeling that something was about to happen and then it’d go away. Every time it happens I feel sick. I’ve tried everything. I haven’t been as involved because there’s nothing I can  _ do.  _ I can’t help you, if I can’t use the only useful thing I have.”

 

“Lydia…” Stiles says, his warm brown eyes giving her heart. He folds his arms around her, hugging her tightly, so she won’t fall apart. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Scott asks, shaking his head sympathetically. “Don’t you remember what happened when I first became an alpha? I was terrified to turn. I couldn’t do it because I was terrified that I’d become a killer. Every time I started to shift, my whole body would protest. I didn’t want to be a monster. But, then we found Malia.” He looks over at Malia and smiles. “And I realized that all I needed to do was trust myself.”

 

“People are dead because I can’t find her. You guys have tried to find her by scent with no luck. We haven’t seen her and every time someone dies I can feel it happening and then...nothing. Nothing but dead bodies.” Lydia says, swallowing her tears. 

 

“Come ‘ere.” Stiles says, leading Lydia to the table. He sits down and pulls her to his lap. She straddles one of his legs, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Lydia, you’re phenomenal. You’re not only the smartest person I know, you’re also one of the strongest. I saw you get mauled by Peter and survive. You were almost killed by Jennifer Blake and escaped. You helped us get my dad back. You tirelessly looked for ways to save my ass when I was possessed by an insanely evil spirit.  _ Insanely  _ evil. You stopped Valyk. You saved Malia. You saved me. You  _ saved _ me, Lydia. Even when everyone else was ready to give up, you remembered.  _ You  _ remembered me. And you busted a fucking hole in the fabric of the universe to bring me home. You saved me from the hunt.”

 

“I didn’t do it all alone.” Lydia says, a tear escaping her eyes. 

 

“And you don’t have to this time. You don’t need to try and carry this weight on your own. You’ve got me. Always. And Scott and Malia and my dad and your mom and Melissa...You have all of us by your side.” Stiles responds, warmly. She sees Scott and Malia nodding in agreement out of the corner of her eye.

 

“We’re not going anywhere, Lyds.” Scott says. 

 

Malia looks at Lydia, her eyes glistening. “We aren’t a pack without you.”

 

“But, what if I can’t her. Or find out who’s next!” 

 

“Then we’ll find another way. But, we’re not going to need to do that. If I believe in anything, it’s you.” Stiles says. 

 

Lydia nods her head, steeling herself for whatever comes next. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia seeks help in regaining control of her powers as a Banshee. What comes next is the most terrifying thing that Lydia has faced yet...

“Okay, so where do we start?” Stiles asks. 

 

The pack is piled into the animal clinic, standing around Deaton in the hopes that he’ll know how to help Lydia reach the banshee inside her again. Lydia’s palms are sweating and she can’t seem to find any measure of calm. Stiles notices her shaking hands and takes one of them in his own. 

 

“We need to relax Lydia’s body so that she can reach a level of clarity that allows her to use her skills to the highest ability,” Deaton explains. 

 

Stiles squints at him and waves one of his hands around. “Okay, yeah, but... _ how  _ exactly?”

 

“By finding a way to calm her. There are a number of different methods, but Lydia has already tried them without success. So, we have to move on to that next step if we want to create a fissure in the wall her mind has created for protection.”

 

“Repression in an effort to avoid past trauma.” Scott says, nodding. Lydia looks to him and smiles a little. He’s grown so much. “What’s our next step then?”

 

“Sedation.” Deaton says, heavily. “Using a specific mixture of herbs that will that will ease her mind and increase mental clarity.” 

 

“How’s she going to tell us where anything is if she’s asleep?” Malia asks, looking between Lydia and Deaton. 

 

“It’ll be similar to her previous visions. But this time we’ll induce sleep under controlled conditions.” Deaton replies. 

 

“Is it safe?” Stiles asks. Deaton doesn’t respond right away, considering his answer. “Deaton, will Lydia be safe?”

 

“Experiments involving the brain are always risky. There’s no way for any of us to follow Lydia into this. She’ll have to operate mostly on her own.” 

 

“What if I used my claws to go in with her?” Scott asks. 

 

“If something unexpected happens when she goes under it could kill both of you. I wouldn’t advise it.” Deaton says gently. 

 

Scott looks at Lydia with a frown, walking over to stand closer to her. “Lydia, you don’t have to do this. We can find another way if we have to.”

 

“My life isn’t more important than the people we’ll save if I do this.” Lydia responds. 

 

“Hey, no one’s dying tonight, alright?” Stiles says. “Things may get messy, but no one is dying.”

 

Lydia wishes she could believe those words, but there’s a feeling in her gut that suggests otherwise. “I’m doing this. We’re doing this, okay? Let’s do it.”

 

Deaton nods and starts pulling vials of crushed herbs out from various drawers, throwing them into a small bowl with a clear sedation liquid. “Ginger, gotu kola, wood betony, ginkgo, skullcap, and elder leaf. The six herbs that increase clarity of the mind. They’ll help to clear the fog.”

 

Stiles helps Lydia onto the metal table, pulling off his sweatshirt to place under her head. She looks up at him, remembering the last time she was laying on this table. She’d almost died then and Stiles Stilinski had saved her. Nervousness creeps into her veins, but she feigns a calmness she definitely doesn’t possess right now. Stiles knows her too well, the look on his face one of concern. 

 

“It’s going to be fine, okay?” Stiles murmurs, pushing her hair back from her face. His lips are like fire against her clammy forehead. 

 

Lydia nods her head, waiting. Finally Deaton prepares the IV and swipes an alcohol wipe across the skin of her inner elbow. She exhales slowly. 

 

“Just, relax Lydia. We’re all right here.” Deaton says softly. 

 

Lydia looks around at the people standing above her. Scott gives her a small smile, his hand on her leg. Malia grabs holds her free hand, interlocking their fingers. Lydia grasps Stiles’ hand tightly as the needle slips beneath her skin, waiting for the drug to pull her under. Just as her eyelids begin to feel heavy, Stiles dips down to whisper in her ear. It feels like the world is slowing down around her, each sensation magnified. Stiles’ hand feels calloused and strong and his skin smells like soap. His lips brush her ear, making her skin tingle. 

 

“I love you.” Stiles whispers. 

 

****

When Lydia opens her eyes, the world is nothing but darkness. Her heart pounds in her chest as she struggles not to panic. She can’t even see her hands in front of her face. 

 

“Hello?” She says into the black. Her voice doesn’t echo and for some reason that makes her even more apprehensive. Lydia fights to control her breathing and a fog rolls in, the white of it hurting her eyes. She walks through it, watching it swirl around her fingers until the scene clears and she’s standing in the forest near Derek Hale’s house. Her feet don’t make any noise as they step on top of the dead leaves littering the ground. The air is chilly; it’s autumn. She can hear voices in the distance, familiar voices, but before she can investigate, a woman steps out from behind the trees. 

 

“There you are. I’ve been waiting for you, Lydia.” 

 

“You have my name, so it’s only fair that I get yours.” Lydia says. The gray tinge of the woman’s skin stands in stark contrast against the pure white of the lingering fog. Her black hair is matted and tangled, falling over her shoulders and back in waves. Dark, heavy brows frame her glowing eyes. Her lips are still a bloody red and her fingers still look as though they’ve been dipped in black blood. “Dybbuk.”

 

“So, you figured it out. The Polish one did, right? Stilinski?” She says, making her way closer. 

 

Lydia can feel the Dybbuk’s growing agitation. She’s close to something she wants and Lydia is standing in the way. Lydia’s heartbeat speeds up at the sound of Stiles’ name. “Do you know everyone’s name?”

 

“Most people’s. But I like to keep a closer eye on some.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lydia asks, warily. Something in this simple sentence sets Lydia on edge. It sounds like a warning.

 

“Eliah. That’s my name. It means ‘oak tree.’” She responds, ignoring Lydia’s question. “Maybe that’s why I was drawn here.”

 

She looks over her shoulder and the nemeton is there, leaves blowing across it’s surface.

 

“I know you just want to go home and be with your family,” Lydia says. “I can help you.”

 

“I don’t want to go home anymore. I have no home.” Eliah says, bitterly. 

 

Before Lydia can respond, Eliah is gone and she’s standing on the lacrosse field at Beacon Hills High School. A group of boys throw the ball back and forth, just far enough away that she can’t tell who they are. One of them, scrawny and gangly, misses the ball and trips over his own feet, falling backwards. Another boy, stouter and darker grabs his hand and pulls him up. Lydia feels a tugging sensation in her stomach and she’s in the dark again. 

 

Rain falls heavily onto her shoulders, but it doesn’t soak through to her skin. The droplets merely roll off of her in beads. Eliah is there, sitting on the ground, watching two kids run through the darkness, a flashlight beam bouncing between the trees. 

 

“You see, it’s the ones with a dark past that really satiate my need. It’s easy to take hold of someone who’s already weakened. And their pain gives me strength. It reminds me that I was alive once too,” Eliah says, her eyes searching the trees. 

 

“You don’t have to take hold of anyone.” Lydia says, sitting down next to her. Eliah’s skin smells like decay, making Lydia’s stomach turn. 

 

“It’s the only way for me to survive,” she responds, turning to look at Lydia. “I would’ve taken  _ you _ with your dark past and all that loss, but it appears banshees are a little more difficult to swallow. Her name was Allison right?”

 

Lydia flinches slightly and her eyes sting. “Don’t.”

 

“Touched a nerve, huh?” 

 

“Listen, you don’t have to keep killing people. I can help you find another way. I can help you find peace.” Lydia says. She focuses on her breathing, trying not to lose her cool. Her hands shake with thoughts of Allison, but her voice is steady.

 

Eilah turns to look into Lydia’s eyes, her expression dark. “Yes I do. And I will.”

 

Darkness swallows Eliah's figure until she’s nothing more than glowing eyes. Then she’s gone and Lydia finds herself in the brightly lit hospital. She raises her hand to shield her eyes from the white lights until her vision adjusts and she can see. In front of her is a closed door and a sign hanging above her says “Hospice Center.” Through the little window in the door Lydia can see a young woman laying in the bed and next to her sits a little boy of 8. His hair is dark and pieces of it stick straight up in the front. His mouth is moving a mile a minute while the lady watches him, a smile on her face. 

 

_ “You need a haircut,”  _ she says, ruffling his hair. 

 

Lydia steps closer to the window, but the little boy’s face is turned away from her. He’s clutching a DVD in his hands, with gold lettering on the front.  _ Star Wars _ , it reads. Something tugs at Lydia’s memory, but then clouds. She closes her eyes and tries to concentrate, but when she opens them it’s a different day. The sky is dark and cloudy and the woman in the bed is upset beyond recognition, her face twisted and she cries and squirms. A man tries to hold her close, but she writhes around. 

 

_ “He’s going to kill me! He wants me dead, Noah. They’re watching. I told you they’re always watching. He’s one of them!” _ She shouts. 

 

The man’s voice is familiar and warm.  _ “No, sweetheart. No one’s watching you. It’s just us. That’s your son. He loves you...” _

 

The little boy sits in the corner, silent sobs wracking his chest, his face buried in his arms. 

 

“She would’ve been a good soul to take.” Eilah says, appearing beside Lydia. 

 

Lydia glares at her before looking back towards the little boy. Her heart aches deeply as she watches him. “Who is he?”

 

Eliah only reveals her chilling smile, fresh back slime leaking from the corners of her mouth. “You’ll see.” 

 

“You mean I’ll see his dead body.” Lydia clarifies. “You’re not killing anyone else. You’re not taking anyone else’s soul.”

 

“Really?” Eliah answers. “Are you going to stop me, Banshee?”

 

“I’m going to try.” Lydia says, looking directly into Eliah’s eyes. 

 

Eliah smiles and disappears. 

 

****

There’s no concept of time in Lydia’s mind. Memories that don’t belong to her keep unfolding in her brain and Eliah hops between them, steadily saying less, until she’s merely hiding just out of sight. Lydia can still feel her though, watching and waiting. She’s searching for each bad memory and soaking them up. Lydia tries to see who owns these memories, but each time she gets close the memory fades. They slide by her quicker and quicker. It’s difficult for Lydia to grasp what’s happening as it all passes by her, but then she’s in another solid memory. Each one feels familiar. There’s a scent or a sound that will trigger her own memory, but it can’t surface, bogged down by the murky waters of borrowed pains.

 

The young boy is a teenager now. He’s placing his hand over the open mouth of a cup and tugging an empty bottle of whiskey from his father’s hands. He misses his mother and watching his father fall apart is killing him...

 

The air smells of gas, sickeningly strong. Lydia’s standing in the parking lot of a hotel with a dark past. Death hangs in the air. A young man wants to kill himself, but a boy covered in constellations of moles and with tears in his eyes takes the flare and saves his best friend’s life. 

 

_ “Scott, you’re my brother.” _

 

A great wind blows through and Lydia is watching a young man struggle with a dark force, darker than he’s ever experienced or seen. It eats away at him until he’s faced with the decision to save himself or the beautiful coyote girl with the drill to her head. He chooses darkness and it swallows him whole until his body is no longer his own. It uses his hands to do the devil’s work, killing the innocent, trying to kill his best friend, killing  _ her _ . It kills the valiant warrior with the bow, using  _ his _ face. It hurts the only girl he’s ever loved with his voice and his mouth and his hands. He’s full of hatred and fear and disgust. He’s full of guilt. 

 

Lydia feels like she’s choking on it. It’s too much. 

 

And then it’s over and he’s always cold these days except for when he’s next to her body and her arms encircle his lanky frame. 

 

Lydia falls to her knees, breathless, her body hollowed out by the pain and the grief that feels overwhelmingly familiar. Lydia has felt this before. She starts shaking until she has to put both hands on the ground to steady herself. She desperately tries to breathe, but her lungs seize up and her mind starts to piece together the things she seen. The fog is beginning to thin…

 

“What are you doing?” Lydia screams. “Why are you doing this?”

 

_ “Getting warmer, Lydia…”  _  Eliah whispers, gliding towards her. 

 

The boy falls to his knees next to his father, the only parent he has, his hero, as he watches him fading. Blood pours from open wounds and terror rips at the boy’s heart.

 

“STOP IT. STOP!” Lydia pleads, her hands clutching her head. “ _ STOP _ !” 

 

The last one comes out with blinding force, throwing Eliah backwards. She lands at an odd angle, the cracking of bones reverberating through the air. Lydia runs and throws herself on top of Eliah, grasping her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixed with blood dripping from her nose and ears. 

 

“Careful, Lydia.” Eliah chokes out beneath her. Then she digs her long claws into Lydia’s chest, over and over again. 

 

Lydia falls backwards off of her, crawling away until her knees touch concrete flooring and she can see sealed glass cells. She struggles to stand, hands climbing up the glass, painting crimson stripes across its surface. When she finally gets to her feet, the pain dissipates and the blood ceases to ooze from her body.  

 

“I’ve been here before.” Lydia whispers to herself. Dread creeps beneath her skin. The herbs are doing their job, clearing her head and guiding her through the darkness. She turns a corner and finds herself standing at the end of the hallway where a beautiful boy in plaid screams her name over and over again, his palms raw from slamming them into the door. 

 

She’s watching him hold her up, telling her she’ll be okay. Lydia watches him, something building up in her chest, putting pressure on her furiously beating heart. There’s a moth trapped there fighting to get out of her ribcage. 

 

Lydia blinks and she’s in the animal clinic watching him hunched over her weak figure, holding her hand, begging her to live.

 

_ Stiles saved me, mom _ . 

 

“No.” Lydia begs. “No, no, no.” 

 

Suddenly she’s in a train station and he’s sitting at a radio, gripping it tightly and listening hard.  _ “Do you remember the last thing I said to you?” _ He says into the crackling radio. Then he’s running down the tunnel with a brilliant white light at it’s end, hope and all encompassing love bursting through misery…

 

Lydia’s chest heaves as she fights the rising panic she feels. “ _ This isn’t happening,” _ she thinks. “ _ This can’t be happening. _ ”

 

Next is a scene she’s never seen before. Stiles is looking at her and she can see herself standing in front of him. Lydia doesn’t move...She doesn’t want to see this. Stiles swallows hard, looking right at Lydia as Eliah curls herself around him, her long talons at his throat. She smiles from behind him, resting her head on his shoulder and looking at Lydia with a sickly grin of satisfaction. 

 

_ “I love you, Lydia.”  _ Stiles says, his eyes full of tears. 

 

“The weak are easier to take.” Eliah murmurs. “The ones cast in shadow, the ill, the downtrodden…”

 

Lydia grits her teeth and feel anger course through her like wildfire. “If you touch him, I’ll end you. I won’t stop until your spirit is nothing more than a cloud of ancient dust.”

 

_ “I’ll always love you, Lydia.” _

 

“I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.” Eliah responds sweetly. Then she opens her mouth wide and bites into his shoulder and rakes her claws across his throat. Blood spurts from the open wounds and Stiles falls on the ground. Eliah punches his chest and Lydia can hear the bones crack as Stiles lays on the ground, drowning in his own blood. She plunges a hand inside him and when she retracts it, Stiles’ beating heart is clutched in her fingers.

 

Lydia screams his name until the world crumbles and dissolves and there is nothing left but a void darkness. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia takes a risk while trying to reconnect with her powers and the result is horrifying.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” Stiles proclaims, looking up at Deaton. 

 

Lydia’s eyes twitch beneath her eyelids and her body jerks slightly. Her breaths are rapid and erratic, and she whines like a wounded animal. Stiles holds her hand, his elbows on the table as he watches Lydia dream. 

 

“She may be experiencing a very vivid image, like the one she had when you found her in the hall closet. She’s safe, nothing can hurt her from here. She’s only dreaming.” Deaton responds, soothingly. 

 

“You sure about that?” Stiles asks, his voice laced with agitation. “Last time she went through this I found her hypothermic in the woods, bleeding and unconscious.”

 

“I told you, Stiles. She’s in a controlled environment. She’s safer here than she was at home.”

 

Malia’s brows are furrowed as she turns to look at Scott. “How long does she have to be under? I don’t like this.”

 

“As long as it takes.” Deaton replies.

 

“What if…?” Scott starts, unable to finish his question.  _ What if she doesn’t wake up?  _ He bites his lip and watches Stiles carefully. “Nevermind.” 

 

Time passes increasingly slower as their impatience grows. Stiles never takes his eyes off Lydia, occasionally shifting his weight to get more comfortable. It’s impossible to do though; the love of his life is laying on a metal slab. 

 

Suddenly Lydia cries out, clearly in pain. Stiles jumps a little. “Lydia?”

 

Lydia doesn’t respond, her head jerking around, her eyes squeezed shut. Her fingers grip Stiles’ tightly until they begin to feel numb. “No,” Lydia mumbles. “What are you doing? Why...?”

 

“Lydia?” Stiles says again. Then he notices the blood. “Hey, she’s bleeding. She’s bleeding! Something’s wrong!” 

 

Blood trickles from Lydia’s nose and ears. Stiles tries to wipe it away, but the flow continues until it begins to pool around her head. 

 

“No, that’s it, I’m waking her up.” Malia says, firmly. 

 

Scott grabs her wrist. “Malia, wait.” He looks up at Deaton. “What do we do? Is she okay?”

 

Deaton watches the blood pooling. “I don’t know.” He puts two fingers to her throat. “Her heartbeat is elevated.”

 

“What does that mean? She's going to be okay, right?” Stiles asks frantically, looking at Lydia from beneath his furrowed brows. His heart is pounding furiously as if it’s attempting to keep Lydia alive too. Deaton is still staring at Lydia and doesn’t answer his question. “What can I do?”

 

Scott steps forward and places his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Stiles, we have to try and stay calm.” His voice is even and warm.

 

“Scott, this is  _ Lydia _ . Lydia is bleeding out on a table and nobody's doing anything. I know the supernatural risks, but I don’t have to like them. If she doesn’t come out of this…”

 

“She’s going to come out of this. She’s strong. You know that.” Scott says, but he knows the fear and panic that’s in Stiles’ heart. He felt it every time Allison was in danger; he felt that kind of hopelessness when Allison died. There’s nothing that will ease that kind of pain. 

 

Lydia starts to shake and her grip on Stiles’ hand loosens. Tears leak from beneath her eyelids, mixing with the blood soaking into her hair. 

 

“Stiles….” Lydia mutters. “Stiles…” 

 

Stiles leans down, holding her face in his shaking hands. “Lydia, I'm right here...I'm right here.” 

 

“No, please no.” Lydia whimpers. 

 

Stiles kisses her forehead, the blood from her ears running down onto his hands. “You’re okay, it’s okay.”

“St...Sti...STILES!”

 

Lydia jolts up from the metal table, screaming, and the IV rips away from her arm. The force of it throws all four of them backwards into cabinets and tables. It goes on for what feels like forever to Lydia. When it finally stops, she can’t seem to catch her breath, gasping for air. Stiles immediately clambers up and runs towards her, catching her before she falls from the table. 

 

“Oh, god, Lydia. Lydia, you’re okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Stiles says. His eyes glisten, but he fights for composure, clinging to Lydia’s tiny frame.. He meets Scott’s eyes as the alpha runs towards them. 

 

Scott’s eyes take in the scene before him. “She’s scared. She’s really  _ really _ scared. The scent is  all over her.” 

 

“Back up! Give her some room.” Deaton says authoritatively, but Malia makes it to them first. 

 

“Move.” She says, pushing her way through until she’s face to face with Lydia. “Lydia, look at me. Shhh, look at me. It’s Malia, okay? You’re safe.” When Lydia doesn’t answer she flashes her eyes, growling. This catches Lydia’s attention and she finally focuses on Malia’s face. Malia takes Lydia’s face in her hands, forcing her to remain focused. “Lydia, it’s okay. It’s over.  _ You’re safe. _ ”

 

Lydia lets out a slow, shaky breath. Malia steps back to allow her to speak. Stiles tentatively moves towards her, gently brushing the bloody tendrils of hair from her face. 

 

“Lydia?” He whispers. 

 

Lydia looks out, her eyes unfocused. “None of us are safe. He’s not safe…” She closes her eyes and begins to cry. 

 

Stiles gently tilts her head up to look at him. “What’d you see?” He asks softly. 

 

“You,” Lydia replies, looking up into his whiskey eyes. “I saw you.”

 

Stiles struggles to understand what this means, pulling her into his arms. He holds her tightly as though she’ll crumble and blow away, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. He looks up at Scott over Lydia’s shoulder and sees true fear there.

 

Fear that matches his own. 

 

****

Lydia pulls her long red waves into a bun, tucking the loose pieces behind her ears. She’s wearing Stiles’ sweatshirt, still quivering, an arm wrapped around his waist, her head nestled into his side. 

 

“So, um...what do we do?” Stiles asks, looking around. “If I’m next? I mean, I’m all for fighting it out, but, she’s got a better track record than I do. I’m not super fast and all…

 

“We need to find her and end this.” Malia says. “Lydia, did you get any clues as to where she could be?”

 

“Um…” Lydia starts, looking around. “I don’t think she stays in one place. She’s constantly floating between the heads of her potential victims.”

 

“But, if she’s already centered on Stiles…” Scott mutters. He looks around. “We need to get him somewhere safe. Anywhere. Somewhere she won’t find him.”

 

“I’m not sure there’s anywhere you can take him that she won’t find him.” Deaton chimes in. 

 

“Thanks, doc, for the help and all, but we’re only taking positive suggestions right now,” Stiles says, his eyebrows raised. “You know, all the ones about me staying alive?”

 

Deaton frowns, looking at the floor. 

 

Lydia’s stomach turns, thinking about what she saw in her dream. She can’t get the image of Stiles’ body out of her head. “Well, we have to do something!” She snaps. 

 

“Argent’s bunker, maybe?” Scott suggests. “When she’s in this world, she’s a physical being, right? She can be stopped by physical barriers.”

 

“Maybe we can trap her with mountain ash,” Malia says with a shrug. 

 

“I don’t think this is going to be this easy. You saw what happened the last time. All of you nearly died,” Lydia says, biting her lip. “I should deal with her on my own. I’m the one who has this connection to her. I’m the one who...who led her right to you.”

 

“No. Hell no. That’s not fucking happening,” Stiles retorts, shaking his head. “You’re not doing this alone. Besides, it’s me she wants anyways.”

 

“And that suddenly means that she’s  _ your _ problem to fix? Stiles, she wants to kill you. I’m the only one who’s spoken to her. I know how to handle myself.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Stiles asks. “Lydia, I know you can handle yourself, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t let people help you!”

 

“All of you could die and I’m not going to put innocent lives at risk.” Lydia argues. 

 

“Well, that’s our choice then. I’d rather die next to you than live one minute on this fucking earth without you, Lydia.” Stiles replies. 

 

Lydia looks at him, her voice shaking. “I don’t want anyone to die.”

 

“Okay, let’s just get in the jeep and we can think of a plan.” Scott cuts in. “We’re going to figure this out.” 

 

****

They make it 5 miles before Stiles brings the jeep to a screeching halt. 

 

“What the fuck is that?” Stiles breathes. But all of them know what it is. 

 

Fog clouds the road, thick and white, obscuring everything behind it, but from its depths a figure walks. The Dybbuk, powerful and sleek looking. She’s dressed in a warrior’s garb, her bare arms muscled and brown, the ever present ash laying on her skin, a reminder of her true nature. She wears thick leather gloves over her hands, her spindly fingers hanging by her sides. Her long, dark hair drips black water onto the road and her bloody lips part in that revolting grin.

 

“Oh, shit,” Stiles says, throwing the jeep into park. His mouth hangs open slightly as he stares at the Dybbuk. For a moment he's utterly frozen, then Lydia grabs his thigh and says his name and he snaps out of it, swallowing his fear. 

 

“Stay down!” Scott yells, leaping out of the jeep and tearing off down the middle of the road. 

 

“Scott, no!” Malia shouts. “Scott!” Then she follows him out into the night. 

 

The Dybbuk continues forward, almost leisurely with the expression of someone who’s already won. Things move in slow motion, Lydia trying to decide what to do. Stiles sees Lydia’s dilemma and takes her hand in his. 

 

“We go out there together,” he says. “I promised I would always be here. I don’t intend to break that promise.”

 

Lydia looks into his eyes, knowing there’s no arguing. Stiles would never hide while his friends fought to save his life. It isn’t who he is and Lydia loves that part of him. 

 

She loves every part of him. 

 

“You stay behind me,” Lydia says desperately. “Whatever happens, you stay behind me.”

 

Stiles nods,“I should’ve kept my fucking bat!” 

 

Scott and Malia finally reach the level of the Dybbuk and the battle begins. Scott lunges, raking his claws over Eliah’s chest, long gashes appearing across her skin, but she doesn’t fall. She grabs Scott’s hand and squeezes until blood begins to ooze from between their hands and Scott roars in pain. Then she charges into him, throwing him to the ground. She raises her arm to strike, but before her hand falls, Malia grabs her arm from behind and twists it up her back. 

 

“Not today, Satan,” Malia growls. 

 

Eliah tries to spin and cut Malia, but Malia leans backwards and Eliah’s claws catch air. Malia kicks her in the chest and cracks her breastbone. Eliah screams in pain, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Stiles and Lydia reach the fog that only seems to grow thicker and throw themselves into it. Eliah hisses and leaps to her feet, throwing her full weight on Malia. She bares her sharp teeth and bites into Malia’s shoulder like a wild animal. Malia’s scream rips through the air. 

 

“Malia!” Scott shouts. 

 

Before he reaches her, Lydia screams, knocking Eliah backwards. Scott stands by her side and roars so loud, the ground shakes beneath them before surging forward and grabbing Eliah around the middle. He throws her to the ground again, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She head butts him with immense force, but still Scott holds on to her. Lydia runs towards them and Eliah kicks out, knocking Lydia to the ground and flipping Scott at the same time. She slides across the ground and throws her hair back. 

 

“You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to kill me,” Eliah hisses. “So handsome and strong, but you lack conviction, Scott.”

 

“I don’t want to kill you. But, I’m sure as hell going to stop you from ever hurting anyone else,” Scott growls. 

 

Eliah growls viciously and runs towards him, but Lydia gets their first, kicking Eliah in the face. Then she circles around and kicks her in the back. Eliah falls on the blacktop with a grunt. Eliah rolls over and looks up at Lydia. 

 

“Are we really going to play this game? All I want is the pale human. You can all walk free if you just give me the boy.”  

 

“Go to hell.” Lydia replies. 

 

“I’ve already been there,” Eliah spits venomously.

 

Eliah disappears into the fog, all of them whipping around, on guard. Stiles hovers behind Lydia, his heart racing. Suddenly it’s hard for him to breathe and his hand goes to his chest. It feels like a panic attack, only worse, so much worse. Stiles struggles to breath, collapsing heavily to the ground. 

 

“Stiles!” Lydia shouts. She falls to her knees next to him. 

 

“What is it? What’s happening?’ Scott asks, blood and sweat smeared across his face. 

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Lydia responds, panicking. 

 

Stiles continues to struggle against a seemingly invisible force. Lydia’s hands hover over him, trying to find a place to rest. The he abruptly stops moving, his breathing even. Lydia says his name again, running her hand over his hair. But, when he opens his eyes, they’re a glossy black instead of warm amber. Lydia’s heart drops somewhere below her navel. 

 

“No…” Lydia begs. “Please, Eliah. Please.”

 

“You’re so selfish, Lydia. Too selfish to even consider anyone else’s life, but your own,” Stiles says, his voice angry and rough. It’s his voice and his face, but it isn’t him. This isn’t Stiles. These are Eliah’s words. “I’d rather die than spend another day next to you. You’re a disease, bringing death to  _ everyone _ around you. This is  _ your _ fault. Jack would still be alive if it weren’t for you. All those poor dead kids would still be here if you hadn’t been such a weak, helpless, coward.”

 

Malia drops to a crouch, staring into Stiles’ face. “Let him go. Get out of him before I get you out.”

 

Stiles’ eyes swing to Malia. “And you. Fucking my best friend, huh? Don’t you remember what it felt like when we fucked?”

 

Malia looks like she’s been slapped, her cheeks burning and her eyes shining. 

 

“Is she good?” Stiles asks, looking at Scott. “She was never good enough for me. I was always thinking about someone else. How did Lydia feel when you had your hands all over her?”

 

Lydia can feel Scott behind her and looks up at him. She shakes her head slightly and turns her eyes back to Stiles. “Give him back, Eliah. Give him back. Please.” Tears run down her cheeks. She can’t hold them in anymore. 

 

“You know, I never loved you. Not really.” Stiles says, softly. 

 

The voice is so familiar, but the words are foreign. Lydia squeezes her eyes shut and tries to concentrate on a way to free Stiles without hurting him. 

 

“I never cared about you. You were just a pretty little thing to look at,” Stiles drawls. He climbs to his feet and the three of them back away. His facial expression is so similar to that of the Nogitsune’s that Lydia shivers. For a moment, she’s back in the tunnels beneath Eichen House, filled with the same overwhelming desperation that she feels now. 

 

“Eliah.” Lydia says, firmly. “Please give him back. Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything.” 

 

“I could hurt him badly,” Eliah says from inside Stiles’ body. “I could make him hurt you.”

 

Scott and Malia stand close to Lydia, soaked in their own blood, but ready to spring forward if need be. 

 

“Or...I could make him kill himself,” Eliah says, slyly. Stiles picks up a jagged piece of broken glass from the ground and holds it to his neck. “It’s so simple.”

 

“I’ll do anything,” Lydia pleads. “ _ Please _ let him go.”

 

Stiles digs the blade into his own neck, blood trickling from the nick in his skin. 

 

“You can have me!” Lydia screams, throwing herself forward. 

 

“You know that won’t work.” Eliah sing-songs in Stiles’ deep voice. 

 

Lydia’s heart is beating a tattoo in her chest and her fear is carving a deep black hole in her brain. She thinks about their past together, about the future they’ll never have, and the pain is so acute that it feels like she’s splintering, coming apart at the seams. 

 

“Stiles,” Lydia cries. “Stiles, please come back.”

 

Eliah falters slightly. “What’re you doing?”

 

Lydia ignores her, speaking only to Stiles. “Stiles, it’s me. Just hang on, okay. Just a little bit longer.” Lydia looks to Malia and Scott. They both look back at her, fear etched into their faces.

 

“Lydia, he’s going to die if we don’t do something,” Malia murmurs.

 

“I know,” Lydia responds. “we have to do something.  _ I  _ have to do something.” 

 

“I trust you,” Scott tells her. “We have to try something or we’re going to lose him.”

 

Lydia turns towards the beautiful boy she fell in love with. The one she loved silently for so many years. The boy who taught her to love herself, to be proud of her brain and her heart. The one who became her best friend before anything else. Being with Stiles makes her want to be...better. 

 

“I'm not losing him.” Lydia says out loud. 

 

Stiles’ lips part in a grin and he saunters forward. Lydia walks towards him, fear beating at her insides, and takes deep, steady breaths. The moon shines through the fog, lighting Lydia’s way. Before they reach one another, Lydia takes one more deep breath. Then she opens her mouth and screams with everything she has, guiding its force with her hands, praying to whoever’s listening that this doesn't kill Stiles. 

 

Scott grabs Malia and holds her in front of him. He wraps his body around hers like a shield. “Cover your ears, Lia!”

 

The scream cuts through the air and soars towards Eliah who reacts too late. The scream hits Stiles’ body and moves through him. Green eyes flicker and fade to golden brown as Eliah is catapulted from his body with a screech. She hits the ground and tries to stand, but Lydia hits her even harder this time. 

 

Eliah flies backwards and lands flat on her back with a groan. Black blood leaks from her mouth nose, and ears. Her breaths come in great stuttering gasps. As the air leaves her lungs, silver wisps rise and mix with the fog and the moonlight. Lydia watches them for a second, tears welling in her eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispers. Then she turns and runs towards Stiles. Scott and Malia are already there, kneeling beside him. 

 

“Is he…?” Lydia asks wildly.

 

Malia shakes her head. “He’s alive. But, his heartbeat is weak.”

 

Scott doesn’t trust himself to speak, his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“Stiles?” Lydia whimpers

 

She bends and puts her ear against his chest. “Hey...no...no.” 

 

Lydia shakes his shoulders, gently at first, then harder. She wipes at the tears rolling down her cheeks and takes Stiles’ face in her hands. “Come back...Stiles, please come back.” 

 

Something rattling in her chest begins to break away and a sob escapes her. “Wake up. Please, wake up. I need you.” 

 

Lydia presses her forehead against his and her tears fall down to his cheeks. “Stiles...Wake. Up.”

“He’s already gone,” says a voice behind her. “Let me end it.”

 

Eliah stands mere feet away, limping towards Lydia. She wipes blood away from her mouth, spitting it out onto the pavement beside her. From the way she’s loping towards them, it’s clear that her spine is fractured. She’s weak, barely holding on, with only one soul left to feed on. 

 

“Give it back.” Lydia says, feeling severe despondency. 

 

“No.” Eliah says, stopping and falling to her knees.

 

“Eliah, you have to give it back. You have to let go. You can’t keep living like this.”

 

Scott growls lowly at Lydia’s side. “Whatever you’ve done, undo it.”

 

Lydia looks down at Stiles, then stands and tentatively walks towards Eliah’s hunched figure. “Eliah, you need to let Stiles’ soul go. You can’t keep living on the grief or pain of others. All it’s doing is feeding your own grief and pain.”

 

“What would you know about loss? You’re surrounded by people who love you.”

 

“I lost my best friend last year. I felt her die when it happened and I thought I’d never be able to function normally again.” Lydia responds. Her voice shakes, but she swallows hard and continues to speak. “My Grandmother was murdered when I was a kid. I watched my ex-boyfriend die. Stiles was taken by the Wild Hunt and all of my memories of him were stolen from me before I got him back. I know loss is painful. But, you have to keep moving forward.”

 

“There’s no other way for me to survive.” Eliah chokes out. “If I let him go, I die.”

 

“Maybe it’s time.” Lydia says, sadly. She lowers herself to the ground next to Eliah. “Listen to me. Do you want to be alone like this forever?”

 

“What do you care?” Eliah says weakly, sweat beading on her brow. “You want me to let him go because you love him.” 

 

“Yeah, I do.” says Lydia. “I love him more than anything in the world. Don’t you remember what love feels like? Don’t you remember your family before you lost them?”

 

Eliah stares at the ground, crying. “Of course I remember them. My family…”

 

“You’ve been lost for so long.” Lydia says, softly. “You haven’t been yourself in hundreds of years, jumping between people. People that have their own families and people they love.”

 

Eliah’s face falls and suddenly she looks almost child-like. “What...what have I done? Lydia, what have I done?”

 

Lydia reaches out tentatively and rests her hand over one of Eliah’s. Eliah looks up at her, startled at the tender gesture. “What you’ve done is in the past. We can’t change it as much as we wish we could. But, you can change your future. You can have a second chance.”

 

“In the afterlife?” Eliah breathes, “ _ Himl _ ?”

 

“Your family has been waiting a long time. All you’ve ever wanted is to find your life and your people. If you let Stiles go, you’ll see them again. You’ll finally be at  _ peace _ .”

 

Eliah starts to cough and more blood comes pours over her lips. She begins to cry harder, shaking. “I’m scared…”

 

“I know.” Lydia replies, her heart aching. She holds onto Eliah’s cold hand rightly. “You don’t have to be. Let go.”

 

Eliah looks into Lydia’s eyes one last time and as she does so, her own eyes turn a deep, dark, brown. “Hold on to him…” She whispers. Then she’s gone, the air full of tiny golden specks of dust quickly taken by the wind. 

 

Lydia blinks away her tears and gets to her feet, looking behind her. Stiles sits up, clutching his chest and gasping for air. “STILES!”

 

Scott’s thumping him on the back and Malia looks up at Lydia with a smile. “You did it, Lydia. You saved him.”

 

Lydia throws herself into Stiles’ arms and bursts into tears. He wraps his arms around her and nuzzles into her neck. “I promised I’d always be here, didn’t I?” Stiles says, weakly. 

 

Lydia pulls back to look at him. “Stiles, you dork.”

 

Then she kisses him, savoring the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin beneath her fingers.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye is the hardest part.

Summer is nearly over, but the air is still warm and the sun is still shining. Lydia and Stiles have spent the week packing up Stiles’ things, getting him ready for George Washington’s pre-FBI program. Everything’s finally in Lydia’s trunk and backseat, ready to go.

 

“I still can’t believe you’re going to be in the FBI, dude.” Scott says, with a laugh. “Helps to know a guy in law enforcement.”

 

“Not in law enforcement yet, big guy.” Stiles says, throwing Scott a drink from the cooler. Scott catches it with deft fingers and unnatural speed. “Don’t do anything too illegal!”

 

“Well, looks like I’m going to need to slow down on the public nudity.” Malia jokes from Scott’s lap. Scott wraps his arms around her middle and squeezes her tightly. She wraps her arm around his shoulders and plants a kiss on his forehead.

 

“I’ll keep you out of trouble.” Scott says, grinning.

 

“Jesus, you guys are disgusting.” Stiles says. But his smile gives him away; he’s insanely happy to see those two together.

 

Lydia looks around at them all and nuzzles into Stiles’ side, her feet tucked under his legs. He sighs in contentment. “You okay?” He asks Lydia.

 

“Yeah!” Lydia says pulling her lips into her mouth and grinning. “I’m very okay.”

 

“I love it when you smile like that.” Stiles murmurs.

 

This makes Lydia smile even wider, a blush rising to her cheeks. Why does she always feel like a silly school girl with a crush when he looks at her like that?

 

“So, we’re throwing a lot of parties over the next few weeks, right?” Malia asks, looking down at Scott.

 

“Oh, yeah.” Scott responds, nodding. “For sure.”

 

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims.

 

“That’s what you get for leaving us, dude.” Scott says with a shrug.

 

“I’m going to pin all of you for murder, I swear to god.” Stiles says in exasperation.

Then all four of them erupt in laughter. _I’m going to miss this so much_ , Lydia thinks.

 

****

 

“You sure you want to be stuck in a car with me for 40 hours?” Stiles says, taking his shirt off and throwing it over the  back of his desk chair.

 

“I can always kick you out of the car if I change my mind.” Lydia says, fighting a smile.

 

“Rude.” Stiles mutters, then he climbs onto the bed and starts to tickle Lydia until she’s screaming with laughter, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. When he stops and they’re both panting and staring at one another. Stiles sneaks a kiss in, his lips quickly brushing Lydia’s collarbone.

 

“Stiles?” Lydia begins, looking up at him. “Can I just stay in D.C. with you? Forever?”

 

Stiles smiles at her, his eyes warm and loving. “I wish. But, you have to go to MIT and prove the Riemann hypothesis. And graduate with honors. And win a field’s medal. You have so many amazing things to do with your life. Don’t you ever cut yourself short for me, okay?”

 

“Never.” Lydia says with a laugh. “And right back at you.”

 

Stiles puts his hand over his heart and sighs dramatically. “Oh my god. I love when you get all sentimental and fuzzy it’s just-”

 

Lydia punches his arm. “Shut up and kiss me, Stilinski, before I change my mind.”

 

She takes his hands and pulls him towards her. He kisses her gently first, barely brushing her lips with his own as he whispers to her…

 

_“I love you, Lydia.”_

 

She closes her eyes at the sound of his voice, knowing she’ll crave his words and touch in a few weeks. Honestly, she always craves it.

 

Lydia’s tongue caresses the inside of Stiles’ mouth as his full lips press into hers. Then he’s pulling her shirt over her head and they’re falling backwards onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and love.

 

****

 

Goodbyes are hard.

 

No matter how many times you do it, it never gets easier. Even when you know you’ll see that person again, because...what if you don’t?

 

Stiles hugs Scott first, squeezing him tightly and thumping him on the back. Lydia knows they’ve already said their goodbyes together, before this moment, just them. It reminds her of the friendship she once shared with Allison and tears make a surprise appearance in the corners of her eyes. Malia is next. Stiles hugs her and gives her a swift kiss on the cheek, reminding her that she’s her own person and if she tries, she can easily take on the world.

 

Lydia follows suit and hugs Scott. He lifts her up and her feet dangle as he slowly swings her back and forth. When he sets her down she looks up at him and knows she’s going to miss him. She’ll miss his warm, even voice and his dark brown puppy eyes. She’ll miss his crooked smile and energetic spirit. Most of all, she’ll miss his resilience and unwavering dedication to the people he loves. She kisses his cheek.

 

“Stay out of trouble.” Lydia says.

 

“I always stay out of trouble. If anything, trouble finds _me._ ” Scott says with a smile.

 

Lydia turns to Malia and looks her over. “I’m so proud of you, Malia.”

 

Malia’s eyes glisten and turn a honey color in the sun’s rays. “I had a good role model. It helps.”

 

“Shut up.” Lydia says, her voice cracking.

 

She wraps her arms around Malia, squeezing her tightly. Malia clings to Lydia’s slight frame, her fingers tangled in copper curls. She can hear Lydia’s heartbeat in her ears, steady and strong.

 

Lydia finally pulls away, wiping tears off of her cheeks. Her eyes find Stiles, standing next to Scott. “You ready?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Stiles responds.

 

_Pulling away is the hardest part_ , Lydia thinks. She and Stiles roll down the windows and wave, watching Scott and Malia turn into tiny figures behind them.

 

Stiles plugs his phone into Lydia’s dash and music begins to play, loud beats and guitar. Lydia smiles. She knows this song.

 

_“You’re not just a girl…”_

 

Stiles leans over the console and kisses Lydia’s neck. “I love you, Lyds.”

 

Lydia smiles widely and steals a glance at him. His upturned nose and whiskey eyes make her blush. Her heart feels so full, like the warmth and affection in her chest is running over.

 

“I love you too, Stiles.” She breathes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
